The Tender Trap
by JoaniexJony
Summary: Don't be deceived by the title! There isn't much tenderness for John in this fic when wounded, he arrives on the wrong doorstep and sets of a chain of events he could never have imagined. Bad luck follows our hero as he takes another trip through the library. Shep whump, and team angst in this second tale of the library series. Set in season 5 but with Carson, as he's my fav doc.
1. Chapter 1

Don't be deceived by the title. There isn't much tenderness for John in this fic when wounded, he arrives on the wrong door step, setting off a chain of events he could never have imagined. Bad luck follows our hero as he takes another journey through the library. (Maybe someone should buy him a Kindle?!) Shep whump and team angst in this second tale of the library series. You don't need to read In The Nick Of Time first, but it does explain how the library works.

Warnings: Violence. I do explore some mature themes, but nothing graphic.

And thanks to my wonderful beta and great pal Sterenyk Strey. You really are an inspiration, pet.

The Tender Trap

Chapter 1

John's heart was racing, tears mixing with the rain running down his face as he staggered, stumbling, into the dense forest. Dad's words were ringing in his ears. _Be a man, Johnny boy. Don't let them see you cry. Never let them know how much they've hurt you._ His assailants were out of sight, and he didn't think they knew about their lucky shot, but weakened by pain and exhaustion John couldn't stop himself. He hurt so much yet his tears weren't just because of his agony. Teyla. If she died, he could never forgive himself.

Night had fallen, although the storm had made the sky dark hours ago. With only the flashes of lightning to guide his way John could barely see where he was going. It didn't matter. As long as he could keep moving, give his team a chance to get Teyla home – then he was good. They could come for him later. He just hoped that later wouldn't be too late.

The fire in his shoulder grew hotter with every faltering step. John didn't need to see the dressing to know it was soaked, but not with rain. The bullet had gone straight through and he was bleeding out, but there was no time to stop and change the dressing. No time to rest. He didn't know how long he'd been running. Didn't know if he'd managed to shake the Semalaens or not. All he did know was that he needed to find shelter, soon. If he didn't, he was going to die.

Shrouded by darkness and deafened by the howling wind thrashing the trees, it was impossible to know if they were still on his tail. He hoped not. Only a fool or someone running for their life would be dumb enough to stay out in this storm. Still, they sure were angry. The worst part, John didn't know why. Lorne had done the initial recon, and hadn't flagged any problems. Their village needed help to defend against the Wraith. In return they'd offered a steady supply of fresh meat from the cow-like creatures grazing in the fields. John had tried a sample. It tasted pretty good. Like a cross between beef and turkey. All they'd come for was to seal the deal. Not long after they'd gone through the library, all hell had broken loose. Then Teyla got shot…

A flash of lightning blinded him just as a large branch was ripped off by the wind. It slammed into his chest, pushing him to the ground. John lay moaning, struggling to catch his breath as specks of light danced in front of his eyes. He tried to focus, but could barely think past the pain that seemed to encompass every part of his body. His head was pounding. A sharp stinging pain tore through his ribs, but it was his shoulder that screamed most of all. The blow was just what he didn't need. He'd already been struggling to keep going, but now he didn't think he could move. Yet he must. To stay put wasn't an option. To lie there was to admit defeat, and he wasn't a quitter.

The rain still poured, not caring who or what lay below. The thunder roared, the noise getting even louder as the wind whipped up, sending torn leaves and branches high into the air. His right arm was all but useless. John grunted as he used his left to push himself onto his knees. The world swam lazily and he listed to the side, unable to break his descent as he collapsed to the ground. He closed his eyes and forced back the nausea before he dared look again. John took a slow, steadying breath. He still felt queasy but the dizziness had gone, at least for now. With trembling fingers he touched the back of his head. It came away covered in blood. A concussion was just what he didn't need. This day really sucked big time and then some.

John tucked his right hand into the waistband of his pants. It wasn't ideal, but it helped stabilise the wound. He still had feeling in his arm which was good, but reckoned from the raw, searing pain ripping through the muscles, his clavicle had been fractured by the bullet. That wasn't good news, neither was the fact his P90 had flown off when he'd taken fire. At the time he'd hardly been able to cope with the gut-wrenching pain before he'd lurched behind a clump of bushes. It was a miracle they'd hadn't found him right there and then. He'd held his breath and waited until they'd passed. He'd barely taken time to press a dressing against the wound let alone look for his weapon before he escaped.

The branch that had hit him lay nearby. It was long, and looked strong enough to offer some support. He pushed it over with his foot and used it to clamber to his feet. The pain in his skull spiked, and his head swam, but John only took enough time for it to settle before he limped away.

Buffeted by the storm and weakened by injury, his remaining strength was fading fast. His adrenaline had taken him this far, but every shambling step forward was an exercise in endurance. John forced his trembling legs to put one foot in front of the other, but they were rubber. There wasn't much left in the tank. He needed to lie down soon, or gravity would soon do it for him.

He thought of Teyla. When they'd opened fire she'd dropped like a stone. His heart had filled with dread at the sight of all the blood pouring from the angry gouge in her scalp. For a moment he'd thought she was dead. John had slammed down on his knees to check her over. The weak, thready pulse was proof of life, and all he'd needed to make his decision. Rodney wasn't strong enough to carry her, but he'd ordered him to lay down fire so that Ronon could take her home. From the anxious expressions on his friends' faces, John knew they hadn't been thrilled at the idea, and neither was he. When he'd taken fire not long after, he'd been even less keen. The diversionary tactic had turned into a battle of survival. But he'd make it. All he needed was to stay alive long enough for the storm to pass, then they'd come and get him…

He was drenched. The cold, soggy clothes sticking to his skin only added to his misery, as his hair, flattened by the persistent downpour, dripped water into his eyes obscuring the way ahead. Another flash illuminated the sky but there was something else too. John tried not to get his hopes up, but he was almost sure he saw another light not far ahead. It was indistinct and muted in comparison to the fireworks going on above him, but John ignored everything, and with renewed strength homed in on his route to salvation.

The forest gave way to a clearing, and lying amongst it squatted a single cottage. It was small, little more than a shed, but there were curtains in the windows, and the flickering light within hinted at someone being home. A moment's uncertainty made him stop just short of the door. He didn't know who stayed there. If it was one of the Semalaens they might just kill him on sight. Then again if he didn't get shelter soon, the outcome would be redundant.

John edged up to the window, cursing himself as he stumbled and fell against it. He drew back quickly, his heart hammering against his chest while his foggy brain tried to decide what to do. When no one appeared at the door, he dared to peek inside. He saw a woman tending the log fire. She was young, pretty and had long curly red hair that bobbed around her shoulders. There was something else too. She was heavily pregnant. John didn't want to scare her, but then he didn't want to die either. Self preservation kicked in, and after a moment's hesitation he knocked on the door.

His mouth suddenly went dry as he wondered what he would say. He didn't have much time to think about it when the sound of creaking wood signalled it was opening.

"Hi…can I come in? I need a little -"

The barrel of a rifle prodded him in the chest and he bit his lip to hold back a groan. The girl stared at him, her piercing blue eyes raking him up and down. "So I see. Tell me, mister. How about I kill you now? Put you out of your misery?"

ooooOoooo

Richard Woolsey barely recognised the still, silent woman lying on the bed. The Athosian was such an elegant woman. Teyla's movements were always fluid and full of grace.

Her warm smile was frozen into a thin line. The glow from her skin had paled, almost to the point of being translucent. The white dressing covering her wound dwarfed her delicate features, but given the amount of blood he'd seen when she'd first arrived, wasn't as large as he'd expected. He hoped that was a good sign.

"What's the hold up?" Rodney hovered about, glancing anxiously at his team mate over Ronon's shoulder. "How is she, Carson?"

The Scot paused from writing something in the chart, and looked up. "The lassie's taken a nasty blow to the head but there isn't a fracture, and I can't see any sign of bleeding, thank God." He muttered the last comment under his breath as he glanced down at his patient and smiled. "I'm glad I didn't have to cut that pretty head open, or take off any of that lovely hair to repair the damage."

"So…what's the story? Why hasn't she woken up then, Carson?" Rodney asked with fear in his eyes.

Richard saw something else too, despair. He knew why. They'd left Sheppard behind. When they'd run through the 'gate with Ronon carrying Teyla in his arms, the two men had wanted to return at once. He understood, and wanted to give the go ahead to mount a rescue, but he erred on the side of caution. As usual and much to his chagrin, the MALP revealed that the Semalaens welcoming party had left, but now the storm had turned into a gale. Despite Major Lorne's assertion that a jumper might be able to handle the weather, reluctantly he'd forbidden a rescue attempt until it had died down. It was the _might_ that did it. Richard wasn't prepared to take a risk on anyone's lives. He didn't think Sheppard would want that either.

"Yeah, doc…what's the deal? Teyla's been out for hours." Ronon turned to Carson, nearly knocking Richard over in the process.

He frowned, and bit back a retort. The Satedan was worried about John, and angry at him for postponing the rescue. Richard understood, but Ronon failed to realize that he was just as worried.

Carson put the chart back at the end of the bed, pulled round the screens, and quietly motioned for them to go into his office. Inside he offered everyone a coffee before pouring out one for himself and sitting down. "Head trauma is a tricky business, Ronon. Given how things could have turned out, Teyla has been lucky. Nevertheless she still has a serious concussion, and right now all we can do is monitor the situation. Hopefully she'll show signs of waking up soon. In the meantime talk to her, hold her hand. Research shows gentle stimulation is often successful."

Ronon flushed, and looked awkward as he peered through the open doorway in the direction where Teyla was lying "I…I'm no good at that stuff. With Sheppard, I just sit there." His eyes flashed with rage. "That's where I should be - searching. He must be hurt, otherwise he'd be back by now."

It was the most he'd ever heard from the Satedan and sadly, Richard knew he was right. The worried glances that followed the uneasy silence confirmed everyone shared the same opinion.

"Ronon's right, something must have gone wrong." Rodney rubbed his hand over his hair, almost yanking it back. He turned on his heel, and started for the door. "I'm going to send the MALP out again…"

Richard called him back. "Dr McKay…the latest results came back less than fifteen minutes ago. I very much doubt there will have been much change since then."

Rodney's face flushed with anger. "Let me get this straight – you _want_ me to stop trying? Sheppard is probably lying hurt in the Semalaens rat-infested jail, or worse…dead. I know you've not been in Pegasus long, Woolsey, but you can take it from me. The natives in most of these dead- beat planets don't follow any version of the Geneva Convention I know!"

Carson looked sympathetic as the two team members glared at him, but while Richard appreciated the sentiment, the doctor needn't have worried. During his years as a diplomat he'd been harangued by experts. The two upset team members didn't come close. He let the insulting use of his second name slide, but refused to back down.

When he spoke next it was in a slow but determined voice that didn't brook any argument. "I want Colonel Sheppard back just as much as you do, but not at the expense of others. I surmise that he sent you through the 'gate without him because Teyla was wounded, and to make sure you were safe. Think about it, gentlemen, Colonel Sheppard wouldn't want anyone…especially not his team to needlessly risk their lives in a rescue that was doomed to fail."

"He wouldn't want to be left behind either…" Ronon grunted.

"And he won't be." Richard rounded on him. He had to look up a long way to lock eyes with the large man, but didn't flinch under his stare. "Lorne is ready to leave as soon as the storm starts to recede. We will bring him back, Ronon. If I've learned one thing since coming here it's that we don't leave our own behind.…"

ooooOoooo

John could understand the hostile reception. A young, pregnant girl living alone was bound to be afraid of a male stranger coming to her door at night in the middle of a storm. Except it was hate in her eyes, not fear. And by the look of the way she was holding the gun, this kid knew how to defend herself.

He was hastily reconsidering his decision and starting to back out, when his legs collapsed underneath him. John pitched forward and yelped as his wounded shoulder hit the floor. For a long moment he could only lie there groaning, as the face in front of him wavered in and out.

"Damn you, stranger! You can stay the night, but that's it. Tomorrow I want you gone." The young woman glowered at him. She made no move to help, and kept the weapon trained on his head as she went back into the room.

John scrubbed a trembling hand over his face, and tried to gather his thoughts. Normally he had no problem talking to pretty girls, but his aching, fuzzy head had robbed him of his usual charm. "Thanks…I'll leave at first light." His was surprised his voice came out cracked. Then again he sounded just how he felt – weak.

The girl eased into a worn, padded chair by the fire and rested her free hand on her protruding belly. He wasn't a medic but by his reckoning she was due to give birth any day. John wondered where _Mr_ Bad Attitude was. Or maybe the guy had run to the hills by now. He wouldn't have blamed him.

"If you're staying – get in. I didn't spend all day cutting logs for you to let the heat out."

His strength was fading fast, and John didn't even try to get to his feet. Gritting his teeth he rolled onto his good side, and using his left arm to take his weight started hauling his sorry ass towards the fireplace.

"Shut the door…"

A snarky comeback was on the tip of his tongue, but it didn't pay to piss off the lady with the gun - especially not in his situation. It didn't stop him rolling his eyes as he kicked the wooden door closed with his foot. The motion sent pain lancing up his body through his shoulder. His breath hitched, and he waited for the red mist to clear before he resumed his short, painful journey.

The warmth radiating from the fire felt good, but it wasn't enough to stop the shiver that wracked his body.

"Take your clothes off."

John narrowed his eyes at the woman staring at him. She wasn't fazed in the least, and her expression didn't change. There was no intent there, or even a spark of humor. He unexpectedly found himself missing Larrin. She was one tough woman, but a good kind of tough. He hadn't heard from her in quite a while. John hoped his favourite Traveller was okay, and that she thought of him sometimes.

"I can guess what you're thinking in that messy-looking head of yours, but you can _relax_. You're soaked through. I don't want you dying on me…that's all." She winced slightly as she squirmed in the chair. "I'm in no condition to dig a grave in my condition."

John wasn't comfortable stripping in front of a woman, at least one he didn't know. She was right though. He needed to get out of his wet clothes, and tend to his wound. Nevertheless it was disconcerting, so John decided to risk a few pleasantries.

"My name's John. Lt Colonel John Sheppard. I came here with my team, but the people we came to meet, the Semalaens, suddenly took a dislike to us…I don't suppose you know why?"

His hands were skaking, and he was fumbling, trying to take off his vest one handed. The girl sat back content to watch him struggle. Her pretty mouth twisted when it turned into a sneer. "Well…_John_, let's just say if I'd thought you were one of those scum you wouldn't be sitting here now."

His tac vest fell onto the wooden floor with a thud. It was a relief to get the weight off his shoulder, but now the raw ragged wound throbbed in earnest. The pressure of the vest had helped control the bleeding. With it gone, fresh blood started to flow. His breath hitched as he tried to ease off the soaked dressing. John gasped as it pulled where the blood had dried, and stuck to his skin. The room started to sway, so he did the only think he could to distract himself, talk.

"So, what's your name?"

When the silence started to become uncomfortable, for a moment he thought she wasn't going to answer the simple question.

"My name is Camista, I'm a sister of the Vergonan tribe."

While the girl was talking, John reached for his discarded vest, and pulled out a fresh dressing. It was useless, drenched by the rain. There was nothing else to hand, and as the hostess without the mostess wasn't offering any assistance, there was no option but to place the sodden bandage against the torn bloody flesh. His jaw clenched in pain and he gasped as a sharp, fiery pain ripped away the last of his strength.

"I'm sorry, Camista…but I think I...I..." he wheezed, "need to pass out now…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hoped you enjoyed the start, and please review. I'd love to know what you think of the story so far.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews, they really mean a lot!

So...how is John? And who is this woman he's with? More answers are on the way!

The Tender Trap

CHAPTER 2

Camista didn't know why she hadn't killed him on the spot. Certainly he was badly wounded and no threat, but he was still a man and as such an enemy of her people. She wondered if it was the child growing in her body that had stopped her from pulling the trigger. It had kicked just as she'd opened the door. The blow had been so fierce it had taken her breath away. She smiled at the memory. The little one was strong. It was bound to be a girl. Camista hoped so. She didn't want to contemplate the alternative.

The man was heavier than he looked, so she only dragged him as far as the hearth before sitting down beside the supine male body to rub her aching back. The child had sapped her strength, slowing her usual quick reactions and making her clumsy. Camista didn't regret taking part in the joining, but hoped from the stabbing pains in her womb it wouldn't be long until the little one would make her final journey. Only then could they leave this place. Only then could she take the seat by her mother's side.

Camista looked forward to rejoining the tribe, but she also longed to hold the small creature in her arms. At first she'd resented the being that steadily grew inside her. Her slim waist had soon thickened, and it wasn't long after that mother had stopped her joining the hunting parties. When she'd felt the first stirrings of movement, any misgivings were forgotten. From that moment on she'd bonded with her child, and grew desperate to meet her. Camista wondered what she'd look like. Would she have her blue eyes and red curly hair? Or would the little girl share the sandy locks and dark eyes of the donor?

Initially she'd dreaded being intimate with a man but it hadn't been that bad, not bad at all. All of her life she'd been told that men were to be despised. They were rough, callous, violent, hairy creatures. Beings who wanted nothing more than to enslave women. Abuse their bodies for gratification, and subject them to a life of oppression.

The legend told that many strong, brave, women had lost their lives escaping the Semalaens to gain their freedom. Her ancestors had then established their own tribe, and ever since, they'd lived in peace and harmony. They grew their own crops. Caught their own game. Built their own homes and other edifices. It was only through necessity that during a couple of months of the year there was a truce for the sole purpose of perpetuating their species. Camista was a warrior, afraid of nothing, but she'd been dreading allowing one of these beasts such intimate contact.

Much to her surprise the young Semalaen, Lalleen, had been patient and gentle. When she'd stepped into the small hut he'd made small talk. At first they'd circled each other as if in challenge. Him smiling and patting the air in appeasement, her snarling and tense. The circle narrowed, the tension eased, and his callused hands had not felt unpleasant when he'd taken her into his arms. The pain when he'd entered her body had been sharp and swift, but afterwards, she'd quite enjoyed the experience. Camista reluctantly admitted that his strong muscular body was pleasing to look at. There was even a moment when his dark eyes seemed almost tender as he'd taken her innocence and given her a child.

Yet he was only a boy compared to this man. This John Sheppard was beautiful. She knew it was wrong, but couldn't stop herself from tracing her finger along his strong jaw, down his long, slender neck and over his firm, toned chest. He flinched, and let out a low moan as she touched the swollen area beside the ragged wound. Camista wondered what it would be like to feel that chest close against her own. Those full, curved lips pressing against hers, exploring her mouth. Would they taste sweet? She thought so, but he was a man, her sworn enemy, so she would never get to find out. His eyes were closed now but even filled with pain, or maybe because of it, she had never seen such depth of color. In the doorway they'd appeared more gold than brown. Illuminated by the soft glow of the flames she realized they were almost the same shade of green as the dress she was wearing. They seemed to shimmer, their amber flecks gleaming in the light.

His skin was hot to the touch, glistening with sweat as the soft rise and fall of his chest hitched as she pulled her hand away. He was dying, would be dead by morning if she didn't do something to help. The question was, should she?

A few months ago the answer would have been clear. The child she was carrying had changed all that. Now she was filled with uncertainty. Her mother was High Priestess, and she was next in line. In a few years the tribe would be looking to her for guidance, but all she had were questions. Questions that if uttered could spell her demise. Camista hoped these feelings would pass after she'd given birth. In the meantime it was just her, her unborn child and the wounded man alone in the room. She whispered to her bump. "I'm doing this for you, little one. You made me save this man for a reason…I only hope he's going to be worth the risk."

ooooOoooo

John yelped, and his eyes sprang open as his shoulder was jostled. Instinctively his body jerked but he could barely move, let alone escape the raw, angry pain searing through the wound. As he struggled to gain some kind of control he saw Camista tying his wrists together. He was freezing, his body shivering despite his close proximity to the fire. Why was she doing this? It didn't make sense.

He was hurt and from the tightness in his chest, and heavy languid feeling in his bones, John knew that fever had set in. Right now he was no threat to anyone, but there would never be a scenario where he would hurt a pregnant woman – even one with a gun. The bitter cold suddenly gave way to a raging heat as he tried to focus, tried to make his dull, woolly brain make sense of what was happening. "Wha…what are you doing?"

Camista looked round, incredulous. "I thought men were supposed to be smart. What do you think I'm doing?"

He wasn't firing on all cylinders so couldn't think of a snappy comeback. The young woman raised an eyebrow and shook her head as she muttered something under her breath. As she gave the rope an extra tug, he took a moment and tried to gather his thoughts. The rope was tight and he could barely feel his fingers. A wiggle of his feet showed that his ankles had also been bound the same way. He was tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey waiting to be slaughtered or pardoned, but why? If she was going to kill him, she could have done it long before now.

"Okay…I'll bite, why the restraints? For the record I'm not the sort of guy who hurts women...especially not pregnant women. I have to say I didn't take you as the nervous type, but even if you are frightened I'm not exactly in a position to hurt you, besides…you have a gun."

"And a very large knife." Camista grinned as she held up a long serrated blade with a sharp tapered point. It was almost as large as Ronon's. John inwardly sighed as he let his head fall back on the floor. A pain speared through his skull and the room did a loop de loop - damn concussion. He really, really wished he'd never set foot on this dumb planet.

Her grin faded, and John watched the girl gasp as she clutched her abdomen. For a moment he thought she was going to keel over. The color had drained from her cheeks, and beads of sweat broke out on her face.

"Are you okay?"

For a moment he didn't think she'd heard him. When she looked back, she almost seemed surprised to see him there. "_Me_…Of course? Having a child is the most natural thing of the world."

"And it's probably the most painful." John muttered sympathetically. "What about your partner…or your family. Isn't there someone around to help you?"

Camista had regained her composure but although there was flash of anger in those beautiful eyes, John thought she still looked spooked. "Vergonan woman have no need of a _partner_. I will have my child here, alone, just as every member of my tribe has done before me."

John rolled his eyes. "Okay…if your tribe hates men so much then what, or should I say _who,_ is responsible for Junior?"

She visibly squirmed, and her color came creeping back. "Unfortunately this is the one thing we can't do on our own. We have an arrangement with the Semalaens. A truce that allows the continuation of our line." She gave him a tight, humorless smile. "At least your gender is good for something."

"Alright I get it…you don't want a man in your life, but what if the delivery doesn't go to plan?"

For the first time John heard a note of anxiety in her haughty tone. She grabbed the knife, and held it to his throat. "How dare you suggest such a thing!My child will arrive in her own good time. Unborn children don't have a _plan_!"

John was a captive audience. If she was going to kill him now there wasn't a thing he could do about it. He held his breath and didn't break eye contact until she backed away.

"Do not rile me, John Sheppard. However, if you do as you're told I will not hurt you…at least not in the way you think. Our people do not take pleasure in harming men. We only retaliate if threatened. But be warned…I _will_ kill you if you try to harm me, or my child."

John supposed the little speech had been said to reassure, but he wasn't. The word _hurt_ had been mentioned, so he was on edge wondering what she was planning. He watched the young girl struggle to her feet, and walk away. Even with child she posed a graceful figure. Her ringlets of golden hair were shimmering. They seemed to take on a life of their own as they played around her face, and bounced around her shoulders. The low-cut bodice of her green cotton dress was displaying more cleavage then he was comfortable with, at least in this situation.

Even if he was so inclined, she was much too young. Teyla had glowed when she'd been pregnant. He remembered how protective he'd felt of her and her unborn child when the city had gone into lockdown during the quarantine. Little did she know he'd been less afraid of the perilous climb, than of being left alone with his friend in the latter stage of pregnancy. It was a cliché, but in every disaster movie he'd watched the trapped pregnant woman always went into labor early. Still, if the worst had happened he probably would have coped. He was a solider after all and used to dealing with blood and gore, besides when he'd lived at home he'd once watched his collie give birth to pups. Certainly this was a _little_ different. He tore his eyes away when she came back into the room.

Camista set down a basin filled with water beside him. He would rather have had something to drink, but she soaked a cloth in the liquid and began to bath the area around his wound. The water was warm but he shivered, flinching, at her touch. When she pressed the cloth against his face their eyes met, and for the first time he realized just how beautiful she was. A flush grew on her pale, milky skin, and she quickly looked away.

She pushed the basin to the side and thrust the tip of the knife into the flames, then sat back, and pushed the stray strands of hair back from her forehead. "I can't get the bleeding to stop. I know you have a fever, but…if I don't cauterise the wound you're going to die. The fever might take you anyway, but this way you'll have a chance."

_Shit_. His heart started racing as he watched the blade heating in the flames. This girl might enjoy pain, but he didn't. He wanted Carson – now. Except he wasn't in Atlantis and in this storm, help wouldn't be coming anytime soon. He was stuck in the back end of nowhere, with a pregnant woman whose bedside manner resembled that of Lucrezia Borgia. John got that in her own way she was trying to help him. He just didn't feel very grateful at the moment. "You didn't have to restrain me. I'm a big boy…I can take it."

A smile hovered on her lips. "I don't doubt it…but I'm not prepared to take the risk. This is going to hurt, and I can't have you lashing out, endangering my child." Camista's reasoning had a cold ring of logic he couldn't deny. It didn't make him feel any better.

His mouth went dry. "_Fine_…just get on with it."

Camista reached for some cushions that were scattered on the chair. Half way back she groaned, clutching her belly as she folded over dropping them onto the floor. Her face creased in pain, and she slammed her fist against the floor. "No, no, _no. _It's not supposed to be this bad. Mother said…"

In pain, the hard edge had disappeared and she looked vulnerable. John could see she was younger than he'd first thought. By his reckoning she was no more than eighteen.

"When did the contractions start?" He said as if he knew anything._  
_

For a moment John didn't think she'd heard him. When she looked up, she was wearing a puzzled expression. "Contractions?"

"The spasms…the pain you've been having." He shrugged, then winced as the movement stole his breath away.

Camista drew a hand through her hair. She looked drained. "The tightening started this morning. I thought…I hoped…my child would have arrived by now."

"Are you up for this?" John glanced down at the blood still seeping from his shoulder.

Her face went whiter than ever but the sour look was back. "Are you?"

John didn't answer, but both of them knew what needed to be done. Camista grimaced as she piled the cushions into a mound, then turned to him with a folded leather belt in her hand. "The bullet went straight through so I'll need to cauterise both ends. I'm going to role you onto your side so I can do the back first. I know your hands are tied, but I would appreciate if you would try and stay still. Lean against the cushions. Now…open your mouth."

He looked at the belt, then at her. There was no malice there, only a little impatience. John was going to argue. Protest that he could control himself, that he wasn't a screamer. It was a moot point. She was going to gag him whether he wanted it or not. If he was honest he didn't know if he could suppress that much pain, so with a resigned sigh he did what he was asked.

John noticed that she'd helped herself to the contents of his vest. His one remaining dressing was set out off to the side, cut in half. Long strips of ripped cotton material were also close by. Camista took one of the thicker pieces, and wound it around her hand before reaching for the knife nestled in the flames. He tried to look away, but was transfixed at the white tip of the roasting blade as she pulled it out the fire. Her ruby lips blew on the metal until it turned red, and steam rose into the air.

Sweat was streaming down his face, and he flinched away from the searing heat as she passed it over his body. She gave no warning, but the scream died in his throat as the burning tip pierced the ragged wound setting more than just his nerves alight. He was panting, trembling, struggling to catch his breath as the smell of his own rancid, burning flesh made him gag. The fierce, fiery pain was still coming in waves, but John knew his misery wasn't over. Camista wasted no time in securing a dressing before rolling him onto his back. This time John saw the blade coming towards him. Saw the steam rise as it melted his flesh. Felt the agony anew, as the torture took him to new levels of endurance. Then he yelled, writhing uncontrollably, biting into the thick leather when he couldn't take the pain anymore.

ooooOoooo

Camista withdrew the blade, and placed it onto the hearth to cool. For a moment she wondered if the man was still conscious, but when she removed the belt he licked his lips. She hadn't considered giving him anything for his comfort, but his bravery had impressed her. It took her a moment to clamber to her feet, and she swayed as a light headedness caught her unawares. She waited for it to pass then went to get some water. No sooner had she'd turned on the faucet when a fierce pain ripped through her belly. She dropped the glass, uncaring of the splinters as she fell to her knees.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she sobbed quietly. No one had told her it would hurt so much. What if this wasn't normal? The strangers words came back to haunt her as she rocked on the floor. Camista loathed self pity, and was glad that no one could see her. She was ashamed. Where was the brave Vergoan warrior now? She dried her eyes, and using the nearby table eventually managed to climb to her feet. With shaking hands she took another glass, and held on with both hands until it was full.

She took a sip, pulled back her hair, and brushed down her full shirt before re-entering the room. John Sheppard was watching her through half-closed lids as she carefully knelt on the floor. Camista forced a small smile on her face. "You did well…here, you must be thirsty." She lifted his head and held it steady while he drank a few sips. "Now you must rest."

"Thanks…"

Camista didn't expect the small courtesy, and was taken aback. When she went to reply he was already unconscious.

Why she did it, Camista didn't know. One minute she was watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, the next she'd taken the knife and had freed his bonds, taking one of his hands in hers. She lay down beside him, and placed her head on his chest. "Please, John Sheppard…help me. You were right. I don't know if I can do this alone." Her heart skipped a beat when his hand gripped hers but when she looked up, he was still sound asleep.

ooooOoooo

Thanks to Strey for her suggestions that made this a better piece of work.

And please review - I love to get your feedback!

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for all the feedback! I'm chuffed to bits you're enjoying the story.

So how is our hero after his painful treatment? How is our mother to be? And what the hell is going on with the people on that planet? More answers coming up!

The Tender Trap

Chapter 3

The door flew open, sending a flurry of leaves into the room as Lalleen was all but blown inside.

"Did you find him?" Daalen spat out, impatiently. The young man was drenched, dripping water all over the flagstone floor. His sandy hair was clamped against his head, and plastered across his face. When he pushed it back, Daalen didn't need to hear the answer.

"We found his weapon, but there wasn't any trace of him." Lalleen admired the unusual rifle-sized firearm in his hand before handing it over. "If I owned an impressive weapon like this, I wouldn't leave it behind unless there was a good reason. I think he may be hurt or…"

"Or he has strayed onto Vergonan land." Daalen ran a hand through his curly auburn hair, and let out a frustrated sigh.

His second in command, Kalenn snorted, and drew him a disparaging look. "I don't know why you're so concerned about this man. He arrived with one of _them._"

Livid, Daalen sprang from his chair and grabbed him, throwing him against the wall. "Just because she was female, does _not_ mean she was a Vergonan. Besides, the woman was wearing a uniform. Try to open your closed mind for a moment and think about it. Do you really think the Vergonans would mount an attack with a party of _men_?" Daalen snorted, and shook his head in disbelief. "To begin with these people do not know our ways. Secondly, we need their help…but I doubt they will offer us any assistance now."

Frustration and sadness replaced his anger, and Daalen felt his temper start to melt away. "Can't you see, Kalenn, or don't you want to? Years of living in separate societies has depleted our numbers. After last year's culling we have barely any men over the age of sixteen. If things continue the way they are, it is only a matter of time before there will be hardly any of us left. We need help to provide a greater defence against the Wraith…and we need to find a way to secure our future."

Kalenn continued to glare at him, but Daalen hoped that something he'd said had sunk in. He stood back, released his shirt, and let him go.

Red faced, Kalenn adjusted his waistcoat, and sneered. "So what are you suggesting, Daalen? We give up our way of life? Worse…we extend the truce?"

"There were only 5 infants from the last joining, Kalenn. Do you think such a small number will sustain our numbers?"

"I hope you're not suggesting we give up our way of life?" He raged, his heightened color making his blond hair look even whiter. "Have you forgotten what those creatures did to our ancestors? Many good men had their throats slit the day those bitches left the tribe…including your own kin."

Daalen didn't answer straight away. He went over to the credenza, poured a glass of red wine into a battered silver goblet, and took a long draught before replying.

"No…I haven't forgotten, but it was a very long time ago." Daalen looked his deputy in the eye. "Have you ever considered what is was like for them? How do you think we would have reacted if it had been us in their position?" He reasoned. "By all accounts our ancestors treated them like slaves. If we had been kept in chains and forced to do menial work, would you have sat back and accepted it?" Kalenn's face was rigid with anger. He opened his mouth to speak but Daalen continued before he could spout more venom. "Look…all I'm saying is that if we want to continue our way of life, we need help to survive. Atlantis can give us that help…or would have if we haven't attacked them. The least we can do is find their man and make sure he gets safe passage home. What's that noise?"

"There's a storm out, or haven't you noticed?" Kalenn mocked as he raised an eyebrow. Daalen silenced him a look. After a tense moment his second in command shrugged, and dragging his feet, started to walk towards the door. "It is probably just the wind or broken branches flying about but…I will go and check."

Even with the fire roaring in the grate, there was still a chill in the large stone farmhouse. The storm not withstanding, the warm balmy days of summer were now a distant memory. The harvest was nearly at an end, and already Daalen could feel the first bite of winter lingering in the air. He'd been so angry with Kalenn he'd forgotten Lalleen was still standing there. The young man was trying to suppress a shiver, his face white with cold. He liked Lalleen. He would make a fine leader one day. Daalen extended his hand and called him over.

"Come stand by the fire, Lalleen, you're soaked through."

Lalleen's eyes darted upwards in surprise. He only hesitated for a second before coming forward. "Thank you, Master Daalen."

Daalen watched him rub his hands, and considered the man before him. "You are a fine warrior, and a good farmer, Lalleen. I am given to understand by the circle of brothers it is due to your suggestions our yield of gramale seed has increased this year?"

A flush grew on the freckled skin. "I am pleased to have been of service to the tribe…"

"And I also understand you have fathered a child with the daughter of the Priestess?" Daalen interrupted, watching the flush deepen as a flash of emotion flew over the young man's face, quickly to disappear. In response Lalleen just nodded. His face was now composed in a bland mask, but Daalen suspected the young man had feelings for the girl.

He was taking a risk so glanced over at the closed door, and made sure they were alone before he spoke.

"Camista is my daughter." At Lalleen's shocked expression, he smiled. "I remember when that autumn came. I hid in the clearing waiting to see if my child appeared. I hoped, prayed it would be a boy so I could bring him up as my own. When winter came, and no more infants had been left in the clearing, I no longer cared that it wasn't a son, and regardless of the rules I was desperate to see my offspring…my daughter. I snuck into their camp but I was caught peeking through the window. I couldn't get away in time, and the Priestess in charge then had me dragged to a pole and whipped before throwing me out the camp. I was beaten to within an inch of my life, but it was worth it. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

A smile grew on Lalleen's face. "Camista is still beautiful, master. Her limbs are long and slender, and she has long red curls, as soft as the finest silk. Now I know the connection I can see that she also has your eyes." The young man looked away, embarrassed, and lifted a poker to prod the coals. "She was not my first joining, but I believe to have been hers. It sounds strange, as all my previous liaisons with the Vergonans have been practical, cold affairs, but I felt a connection with Camista as soon as she entered the tent. And…I might be wrong, but I believe the experience was not unpleasing to her either."

The two men exchanged a warm look which turned into alarm when the door burst open.

A giant of a man with long, wild hair appeared in the doorway and threw Kalenn across the floor. The stranger moved so fast he didn't have time to react. Within seconds he was staring at the barrel of a strange looking firearm. Three other men followed quickly behind him. Daalen was only partly relieved to see Major Lorne whom he recognized from a previous visit.

"Where's Sheppard?"

"Ronon…leave this to me." Major Lorne stepped past the large man seemingly oblivious to his furious expression. However despite his control Daalen could see he was angry. "Tell me, Daalen, when I came to see you I thought we'd got on okay. As far as I was concerned we'd agreed terms, so I'd really like to know why your men attacked Colonel Sheppard and his team."

"The man who escaped into the woods was your commander?" Daalen felt the blood drain from his face. "I am so sorry – for all of this. The order came from Kalenn, but he did not have my authority to open fire on your delegation. We have been trying to find your man…Colonel Sheppard." He let out a long sigh. "Unfortunately the only thing we've found so far is his weapon."

Daalen stooped to pick it up. He stopped when he heard Ronon's weapon charge up.

"Why did he attack?" Lorne asked, his steely demeanor vastly different from the affable man he'd met last time.

Although he had doubts about their way of life, Daalen disliked having to defend it to others. Nevertheless, his men had fired on innocent people, potential allies even.

Inwardly he counted to ten before replying. "I believe there was a woman in your party. We are at war with the neighbouring tribe. The Vergonans are female and…for some reason Kalenn believed your woman was one of them." At the raised eyebrows, he suppressed the desire to swallow. "Perhaps _war_ is too aggressive a term. These days we have an uneasy relationship, but the unrest goes back centuries when the Vergonans, who used to be part of our tribe, rebelled and left to form their own. Active hostilities ceased some time ago but if a man dares to enter their land he will be punished, at worst, killed. In the past it wasn't uncommon for an example to be made. The unfortunate man's beaten lifeless corpse would be left in the clearing as a message. Nevertheless, as I said before I deeply regret what happened. How is the woman?"

"_Teyla _is going to be fine…If you can call having a bullet take a gouge out her forehead, and a concussion _fine._ But let me get this straight. Apart from admitting to being a bunch of Neanderthals, what are you trying to say? Colonel Sheppard could be in the hands of a bunch of Xenas?"

Daalen glared at the man with the sharp, irritating voice, but said nothing. Under normal circumstances he would have floored him on the spot.

"He called them Vergonans, Rodney, and it isn't our place to criticise their culture, lad, no matter how _unusual_ it may be." The last man in the group spoke in a lilting accent, sounding incredulous as he muttered the last part under his breath. "Do you know if the Colonel was wounded?" He asked anxiously.

"_Well,_ Kalenn…answer our visitor."

Kalenn winced as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Slighted dazed as he rubbed a deepening bruise on his cheek. "I don't know. If there was any blood it would have been washed away by the rain."

The door slammed shut and started rattling again the frame as the wind rose in ferocity. Major Lorne stared at it anxiously. He appeared conflicted as he looked from the door back to the others. "We can't go out in that -"

Ronon pushed past him. "You can do what you like – I'm going to find Sheppard!"

Daalen shouted after him. "Please…I am sorry for what has happened, but no good will be served by going out into the storm. You would get lost in the woods. Worse, you might end up getting killed by the sanoives that inhabit the forest. If you stay here until first light I and my men will assist you in the search. In the meantime I would be happy to offer you hospitality. It's the least I can do."

The big man stopped, slammed his fist against the door sending an echo round the room. When he turned round, he locked eyes with him, then shifted his angry glare to the Major. "First light – _no_ longer."

ooooOoooo

A blood curling scream brought him back to awareness, but despite the fire still burning in his shoulder, John didn't think the sound came from him.

He still felt too hot, and the raw, angry throbbing from the wound as he stirred made him want to stay put, but John sensed he no longer had the luxury to lie there. Whimpers of pain told him Camista needed his help. His eyes were gritty and sore, but when he eventually prised them open his suspicions were confirmed. The young girl's eyes were glazed, the lustrous red curls now flat, slicked against her sweat drenched skin. He caught her looking at him in desperation. The unspoken request was written over her face, but what could he do? He'd been trained in basic field medicine, but delivering a baby – he wasn't a medic. _Shit._ He wasn't up for this, but he couldn't stand by and do nothing.

Gritting his teeth John rolled onto his good side, then slowly and very painfully pushed up onto his knees. His vision greyed as the room swayed, and only sheer grit kept him from collapsing. When he was reasonably confident he wasn't going to face palm onto the deck, John shuffled on his knees towards the suffering woman. The floor was damp, but there was no water left on the surface. By his reckoning her waters must have broken a while back. At least he thought so. Then again, what the hell did he know.

"How are we doing?" He forced what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face.

Camista's face twisted as she grunted in pain. "_We_ are not having a baby – I am. How do you think I am? Get this child out of me!"

When a spike of pain ripped through his shoulder, John grimaced, and automatically placed his hand over his throbbing wound. "Okay...I have to tell you…I've never delivered a baby before -"

"That makes us equal then. I've never had a child before either!" She screamed at him as she threw her head back with a groan. "_Please_…just do what you can."

His shoulder was killing him. With the fever making his limbs heavy and lethargic John wondered if now was a good time to mention what she'd said about childbirth being the most natural thing in the world. Not forgetting the smug statement that all Vergonan women had their children alone. Looking at her agonized, slightly pissed expression, he decided against it. In any case she'd asked for his help. He was no Carson Beckett, but if Rodney McKay could deliver a baby, so could he.

"Let's have a look then." John wasn't comfortable getting up close and way too personal with a woman he barely knew, but needs must. He drew up her skirt. "I'm no doctor, but Junior's on his way – I can see his head."

"No! It's not a boy – it can't be!" Camista panted, her breath coming in short, sharp angry gasps.

John wondered why she was getting so upset. He got that she wanted a girl, but the kid was her first. Surely it didn't matter what sex it was? He groaned inwardly. "It's a figure of speech, Camista, but whatever you're having, it's coming soon. The next time you feel like pushing – make it count."

The girl lifted her head a little higher to glare at him. "While you've been having a nice little nap, what do you _think_ I've been doing!"

A nap wasn't exactly the way he would have described the reason he'd slept, but John kept his mouth shut. The baby was arriving soon, and he needed to be prepared. From a quick scan of the room he couldn't see anything to put a newborn in. Almost as if she read his mind Camista pointed to the room beyond. "In there…I have some clean linens."

Kneeling was one thing, but John didn't know if he could manage to get to his feet - let alone stay there. He shuffled back until he reached the edge of the chair then in one excruciating, shaky movement hauled himself upright. The world tilted, and black spots danced in front of his face as his trembling legs struggled to support his weight. For once the fiery pain was almost welcome as it broke through the fog, and kept him grounded until the moment passed.

Camista glanced up. He saw anxiety in her face for the first time. "I…I'm sorry. You're hurt…I shouldn't be putting you through this..." Her eyes squeezed shut as she let out a yell. It gave John the drive he needed to stagger through to the other room.

The dripping faucet reminded him how thirsty he was. He found a glass lying on the drainer and took a long draft of the cool water before refilling it for Camista. The kid would need a drink when she was done. Refreshed, he looked around and found a neat pile of cotton sheets, plus a delicate woollen shawl stored on the middle shelf of the dresser. A small wooden crib lay in the corner waiting for its new owner.

"John – she's coming!"

Her agonized scream, and the fact she'd used his name gave him the strength he needed to ignore the pain as he tucked the linens under his arm and stumbled back through.

John fell to his knees wincing as he reignited the fiery pain in his shoulder, but pushed his discomfort aside and got down to the business at hand. Another look told him it was _show_ time. "The head's through, Camista – just one more push…" He barely had time to get the fine cotton sheet into position before the infant entered the world with a small, but piercing cry.

He didn't have the strength to struggle back to the kitchen, and cursed himself for being so dumb. Even he knew the old wives tale was crap. You didn't need gallons of boiling water after child birth, but he should have brought some to clean the baby with. There was nothing else for it. John used the pitiful amount in the glass to moisten a cloth and gently wash the blood away from the squirming infant now lying against his lap.

Camista's eyes were large in her wan face as she looked up anxiously. "Is there anything wrong? Is…is she alright?"

John smiled, then spluttered and blinked as a stream of urine flew into his face. "No…everything is in full working order. He smiled as he laid the baby in the crook of her arm. "Camista, allow me to introduce you to…your son."

ooooOoooo

TBC.

I really hope you enjoyed that, and please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews, they really mean a lot. I'm sorry for the delay in posting but I hope the longer chapter will make up for it.

As for John...well, he can now add midwife to his resume! But how is Camista going to feel about having a boy?

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 4

As the wriggling bundle snuggled against her breast, Camista was overcome with a surge of emotion. Despite her resolve, a single tear fell down her cheek.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Not once had she considered the possibility she would bear a son. Now that the unthinkable had happened, Camista realized how stupid she'd been not to prepare herself. Yet the child was beautiful. Already he had a full head of bright red hair and the hand wrapped around her finger was strong, but she couldn't keep him. There was the code to follow. The rules of her tribe forbade even the youngest male entering the village. As the heir apparent it was her role not only to obey, but also show a fitting example to the other young women. Tomorrow, after the storm had broken, she would take her leave of this place and take him to the clearing. But tomorrow was another day. Tonight she would hold him close and try to gather enough memories to last a lifetime.

"He's a cute kid. What are you going to call him?"

Camista glanced up to find John smiling at her. She had forgotten he was there. For a moment she was taken aback by the question, and answered distractedly. "I don't know. Usually it is the father who chooses the name of the male siblings."

His smile faded. "Well I don't see him here, Camista, I can only see you…and I know how much pain you went through to bring this little fella into the world. The way I see it," John shrugged, "you should get to pick his name."

She pondered for a moment. "John."

"What is it? Are you okay?" The man had been clearing up the mess, but on hearing his name turned back round in alarm. And that's when she really saw him.

He looked ill. His pale face was even whiter than when he'd first arrived, and there was pain visible in the green eyes that he was struggling to hide. Men were hated by her people but this man, sick and wounded as he was, had come to her aid when she'd needed help. How could she hate _him_? She gave him a small smile. "_John _is his name. I can't think of a better one than of the man who helped give him life."

"Wow…I'm…honored." A flush grew up to the roots of his dark hair. "Seriously…I just played catch, you did all the work. You really don't have to do that."

"Perhaps not…but it's fitting. And you're right. I do feel better knowing that at least I'm leaving him with a name." Camista squirmed, trying and failing to get comfortable. "Would you mind taking your namesake while I freshen up?"

John took the child, and although his own legs appeared less than steady, he managed to help her to her feet. As they stood swaying, trying to support each other, John locked eyes with her. "What are you talking about?"

Camista averted her face and deliberated ignored the question. "I need to attend to some _personal _business."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. I get it now. That's why you were so desperate to have a girl." His eyes grew dark, and he slowly shook his head. "I can't believe I'm even saying this…but you're going to leave him behind – aren't you?"

"I don't have a choice…I cannot rejoin my tribe with a male child." Even as she spoke the words, her heart was already breaking. It was sheer force of will that had stopped her voice from cracking.

John tightened his grip on her upper arm. "You can play the hard-nosed routine all you like, but I can see it in your face. He's your son…you already love him. You don't want to give him up."

She quickly pulled away causing him to stagger, and the child started to cry. "Now see what you've done. _Men_ – you're all the same."

"Are we? You've lived your entire life with women…so what the hell do you know about us?" John drew the child in closer and gently rocked him. "I don't pretend to know about your damn _code_…but where I come from men and women get along just fine." His face clouded over, and his voice softened slightly. "I loved my mom. She died when I was far too young…but I still have some great memories. This John deserves to know his mom too."

Camista snatched the child back, and as the baby yelled louder, her tears started to fall in earnest. "I…_Just_ leave me alone…leave us both alone – get out!"

John didn't say a word but drew them both into the crook of his arm. She didn't put up much of a fight and continued to sob into his chest while he held her close and rubbed circles on her back.

"It would be easy for me to leave, but I don't do easy, and I _don't_ leave people behind who need my help." John whispered into her ear. "I'll stay until morning, and if you're both okay and still happy with that dumb decision - then I'll leave. But remember this, Camista, you always have a choice. One of them is to come with me." She glanced up and drew him a look. "Not like _that_…We share our base with some good people - Athosians. I know they would be more than happy to give you both a new home."

Camista was achy and exhausted, but it wasn't just from the exertion of a long labor. She was emotionally drained, troubled for the first time in her life. The kindness and compassion of the man before her had challenged everything she'd been brought up to believe. Was it true? Could men and women not only live in peace, but also co-exist happily together? Could she take the risk in turning her back on generations of tradition? She was all too aware that if she took her child and left, apart from the disgrace it would bring upon her line, she would be severely punished if caught. Yet how could she leave this little one behind never to see him again? Her heart started pounding and she was gripped with panic at the very thought.

Camista broke away from John's embrace, handed back the child and kissed the small rosy cheek before backing away. "Get some rest, John…take the chair. I'll take the little with me to bed once I come back."

For a moment she thought John was going to say something else, but his expression did the talking and his mouth formed a thin line as he staggered towards the chair. When she returned to the room a few minutes later she saw her son had snuggled into his chest, and both males were sound asleep.

ooooOoooo

The reedy sound of the child crying roused John from a dreamless sleep. He scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing as the movement jolted his shoulder sending the deep raw ache alight. When his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light he noticed that the fire had gone out. He shivered. It explained why his limbs were stiff, and he felt chilled to the bone.

A shaft of sunlight filtered through the thin latticed material of the curtains. It was morning, time for him to go. He fingered the silver bracelet around his wrist wishing the portal into the library was closer. Then again, after the attack Woolsey would have had it closed. At least that's what he would have done. His best bet was to make his way into the clearing. If there was a search party, and he sure hoped there was, it would be easier for them to find each other.

Normally the long walk wouldn't have bothered him, but his shoulder hurt like a bitch, and the fever that had started yesterday still hadn't quit. John didn't relish the journey ahead but there wasn't a choice. He'd need to suck it up, get on his feet and start moving.

The creak of floorboards in the other room told him Camista was awake. He thought of her and the child bearing his name, and swallowed a lump in his throat. John tried to respect other people's cultures and beliefs, even if he didn't share them, but giving up a child that she clearly loved because it was the wrong sex was all kinds of wrong.

Almost as if she'd been listening in on his thoughts, the young mother walked into the room carrying a cup of steaming liquid, and a plate containing a wedge of buttered bread. She placed it on his lap and smiled nervously. "I thought you might be hungry."

He was. His last meal had been breakfast yesterday morning. The scrambled eggs, toast and yogurt has stopped sustaining him long ago, John took a bite and nodded. "Thanks…"

From the moment they'd met Camista had never struck him as the nervous type. Today she appeared tense. She was fingering the curls around her face while her eyes darted between him and the door. He had barely put the last crust in his mouth, when she snatched the plate away. "We need to get moving – now."

John searched her face. "_We?"_

Her face fell. "Last night you said we could come with you…start a new life. But if you've changed your mind…"

A slow smile grew on his face. "C'mon, go grab the kid and we'll get moving."

John winced but managed to suppress a groan as he struggled out the chair. When he finally got upright the room swayed and he would have fallen if Camista hadn't caught him. She looked at him anxiously, and placed a hand against his brow. "You're burning up…are you going to be able to walk?"

He crossed his fingers behind his back. "Sure… Don't worry, I've suffered a lot worse than this. Just take what you need for the baby. I'd like to get on our way before your folks…and the Semalaens start looking for us."

She looked a little uncertain, but needed no further bidding and scurried away. The truth was John wasn't sure if he could make it, but negative thinking wasn't going to help. Besides, Camista and the kid John were depending on him. He kept a firm grip on the chair until the room settled, and his legs stopped shaking. After a few tentative steps forward, he was feeling more confident. When Camista appeared with the baby tied round her in a papoose arrangement, John smiled. Whatever happened next, this was the right thing to do.

Camista held his jacket, and helped him struggle into it. He shook his head at the Kevlar vest. It would give him protection, but the thought of the heavy weight pressing against his wounds brought him out in a cold sweat. She let it fall to the floor then handed him her rifle. He took it wordlessly.

"I'm not giving up my child, John. If I should get caught, or die in the struggle, promise me you will take him with you."

John went over and looked down at the now sleeping child. "I promise…to get you both safely away from here. Take this – I can't manage two weapons with my shoulder." He handed over his firearm. She examined it briefly then eased it into the belt around her waist, next to her knife.

With a last look around the room Camista nodded. "Let's get out of here."

ooooOoooo

Yesterday the skies had been dark and heavy with rain, but today the sun was shining and the unseen dawn chorus of birds were filling the air with song. It was a pretty place, beautiful even, but John couldn't enjoy the view. Images of Teyla falling like stone filled him with dread. Suppose he got back to Atlantis to find her dead? He'd never forgive himself. Watching Camista cradle her son reminded him of Teyla holding Torren. Teyla's child had barely been an hour old when they'd escaped Michael's ship on a dart. Almost as if he'd known the danger they were in, the child had lain quietly on his lap as he'd scooped up his friends in the beam, and made their escape. Torren was growing up to be a good kid. Teyla had to be alive. Her son needed her.

It was becoming uncomfortably warm. Sweat was running down his face, blinding him, and John stumbled.

Camista caught him before he fell. "I think we should take a break." When John opened his mouth to object, she glanced at the baby. "He needs fed. I don't want him to wake up and start crying with hunger."

"Right…" John wiped the moisture from his face with the back of his hand. When he saw Camista settling herself on the ground, he averted his eyes to give mother and child some privacy. He remained standing, but leaned against a tree. It wasn't because he sensed any danger. The truth was he was pretty sure if he sat down, he might not be able to get back up again.

"What is your home like, John?"

He was about to turn round, when he remembered the child was being fed. He cleared his voice before he spoke. "_Atlantis?_ She's awesome. It's a wonderful city, and I'm pretty sure there wouldn't be a problem finding you digs there, but I think you'll be happier living on the mainland." He glanced around at the shades of red, yellow and gold leaves falling from the trees. They and the pretty assortment of pink and blue wild flowers that wound their way up the bark reminded him of the settlement.

"It's not dissimilar to here, and you'll love the people. They're real friendly. Teyla…" John's voice faltered with emotion, "one of my team, is leader of her people. I think you two could become good friends."

"You don't know how strange that sounds to me," Camista said, slightly breathless. "All my life I've been brought up to hate men. To hear that not only do you live together in peace, but you also work and enjoy friendships…This is something I will need to get used to. Tell me. Is this Teyla your partner?"

"Wha? No!" John couldn't stop himself blushing. "Teyla has a partner…and a son. He's called Torren. Anyway…I think you're going to do just fine. In fact there are some folks who would say if you got along with me…you'd get on with anyone."

"Ain't _that_ the truth."

At the sound of Ronon's voice he swung round so suddenly the scenery swam dizzily around him. He clung onto the tree for support, but this time the feeling lingered longer than he liked. As Ronon, Rodney and Carson approached, he gave them a wry smile. "Glad you guy's could finally make it."

"_Nice_…that's gratitude for…for you – _attishoo_!" Rodney sneezed, causing his whole body to shudder. The scientist muttered something under his breath as he fumbled in his pocket before producing a Kleenex. The sound he made blowing his nose was so loud, nearby birds flew away in fright. "I'll have you know we searched in the storm for you. If I die of pneumonia, Sheppard – it'll be your fault.

Carson rolled his eyes at his old friend, then narrowed when he saw the yellow discharge seeping through the dressing on John's shoulder. "It's only a cold, Rodney…but the Colonel here has been shot."

"The bleeding wouldn't stop. Camista had to cauterise the wound."

"That's just gross…" Rodney went green around the gills, as he put a hand over his mouth.

"I'll bet that hurt..." The Scot winced in sympathy, then nodded to Ronon. Together they went over and each grabbed an arm. "Let's get you off your feet and I'll have a look at this wound."

"I'm good," John grimaced, belying that statement as a shaft of pain ripped through his shoulder, "How's Teyla?" He ground out through clenched teeth.

"Teyla is doing just fine. The bullet nicked her scalp, but she got off with a relatively mild concussion. She was sitting up in bed playing with Torren when we left."

John let go the breath he'd been holding as Carson's words made him instantly relax.

"So…who's this lovely young lassie?"

Carson was smiling at her but Camista glared at the three strangers, her hand hovering over her gun. John saw the tension in her eyes and felt like a heel. He'd been so relieved to see his friends, he'd forgotten she was unused to male company. "This is Camista, and her new son…_John_." He flashed her a reassuring smile, "Camista, these are good friends of mine. I'd like to introduce you to Carson Beckett, Ronon Dex, and Rodney McKay. Carson is a doctor. I think it would be a good idea if you let him check you both over."

Rodney's eyes grew large in his face as he stared at the baby in disbelief. "_Why_ is the baby called John?"

"Hey…you aren't the only one who can play midwife, McKay." John wanted to grin, but a wave of nausea caught him unawares, and the laughter died in his throat.

A rustle of leaves and the footfall of heavy boots caught his attention just before Lorne came to join them. He smiled. "Hi, Colonel. It's good to see you, Sir…I was starting to get worried." His XO sounded relieved but as Lorne got closer and saw his wound, John could see the anxiety creep back into his expression. With him were two men he didn't recognise. One was an older man with wavy auburn hair. The other, a tall young man with sandy hair was staring at Camista.

"Camista…I don't understand. I can see you have had your child, so why are you here? If it's a boy, you know the code. You should have left him in the clearing for me to take home."

Camista hastily rearranged her clothing and gathered the baby protectively against her chest. "This is _my_ child, Lalleen. What it is…is of no concern to you."

The young man stormed forward. "No, Camista…it is _our _child. Tell me at once. What is going on?"

John heard a click, and looked up to see an attractive, middle aged woman with red curly hair streaked with grey. She was surrounded by what looked like a squad of Amazonian women. They were levelling an assortment of crossbows and firearms at their chests. "That's a very good question, Camista. Why are you here?"

Camista scrambled to her feet, held her child even closer and went to stand beside John.

"You're suspicions were correct, Lalleen – I have had a son, but I do not intend to give him up. That's right, mother. I am going with this man to start a new life. I want my child to grow up to know me…his mother…and there is nothing you can say, or do, that will stop me."

Her mother walked towards her. "You are the next in line. You have responsibilities, an obligation to me...to your tribe. It is your job to set a good example to the other young women."

"What about the obligation I have to my son?" Camista's face went crimson with rage. "He is my responsibility. What kind of example would I be as a mother to walk away from my own child?"

The older woman frowned, and her mouth twisted. "Who do you think you are! You are not the only one who has faced this predicament. It hasn't been easy for any of us who have born sons, but we stayed strong and true to our beliefs. What lies has this man been telling you?" She looked at John with contempt.

John inwardly groaned. This day was almost turning out as bad at the one before. He glanced at his XO and Lorne gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. John took his lead, and shrugged off the support of his friends to raise his hands.

"Now let's everyone calm down. Camista kindly took me in when I was hurt…it's sheer luck I happened to be around when this little guy made an appearance." John forced a smile he wasn't feeling, and gave the older woman his best puppy dog look. Her expression only hardened. "Anyway…Camista has asked me for help, and I'm a guy who keeps his promises. But…I can tell there are some serious issues here, so what I suggest is that we all sit round a table to discuss them. Once I get this shoulder patched up, I'll be in touch to arrange a meeting. What do you say?"

His legs were trembling from weakness and fatigue. John welcomed Ronon's strong arm discretely keeping him upright.

"Colonel Sheppard is right, Pellista." The older man reasoned. "The cracks have been appearing in our way of life for some time now. I for one would like to resolve them… before my daughter and grandson feel they must abandon the land of their birth."

The look he gave Camista and the child was warm. Camista in turn stared back wide-eyed, stunned at the revelation.

John hoped his reasonable attitude would extend to her mother. His hopes were quickly dashed, as the woman raised her firearm towards her daughter. "You have brought shame on our house…and our people. You know the penalty…"

As John went to break away from Ronon's grasp he stumbled, and much to his annoyance fell to his knees. His vision blurred and he couldn't see what was happening, but he could hear Ronon's blaster charge up, and Carson tutting as the medic helped him lie back against the tree.

"Right now I don't care about this bloody stupid battle of the sexes." The Scot spat out, "This man needs medical attention – now."

John felt like crap, but he managed to reach out and put a trembling hand on his arm. "I'll be fine, Carson…but you ladies should put down your weapons." When he smiled at them and pointed towards the sky, the bright blue shimmered then became almost translucent before it revealed a previously cloaked jumper. The reaction was instantaneous. John was met with angry astonished looks from the women, incredulity from the men. It had the desired effect. Both parties were spooked.

"I'm guessing there are weapons trained on our location right now, Major?"

"Yes, Sir. Just say the word, Colonel." Lorne responded with a wry smile.

His shoulder was throbbing, and his chest felt tight making breathing difficult. John pushed away the darkness and tried to sound stronger than he felt. He nodded to Pellista, and the women who still hadn't lowered their weapons. "I'm not going to say it again…"

The Priestess glared at him, her angry look moving onto her daughter. "You are making a big mistake, Camista…this is not the end." Her red hair caught the light as she spun round on her heel, the stiff rustle of her blue cotton skirt sounding almost as annoyed as the person wearing it. The other women followed quickly behind. Within moments only the men remained.

The older man came over. "My name is Daalen. Please accept my apologies for the trouble we've caused you, Colonel, and I am more than happy to attend any talks on behalf of my tribe. In my view Camista's decision has only highlighted that the situation on the planet cannot remain."

"Talks can only work if both sides are willing to come to the table." John panted, his raspy voice coming out as a whisper.

"Pellista was always a stubborn woman, but she'll come round. Curiosity if nothing else will bring her to parlay." Daalen patted Lalleen on the back. "It is time we left and allowed Doctor Beckett to take care of his patient." But the young man didn't move, seemly unable to take his eyes off the child who was shrouded with blankets. The older man gave Camista a smile. "Come, Camista. At least let Lalleen look upon his son." When she stepped back, and made as if to flee he followed John's example and put up his hands. "You have my word, he will not try to take the child from you."

Her eyes darted to John, and he nodded. She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear then slowly moved towards the father of her child.

Lalleen's face lit up when he saw his son. One of the child's hands had escaped the blanket, and the small stubby fingers latched onto one of his. "He is…_beautiful_. May I come and visit him once you are settled?"

Camista pulled back slightly. "I…I'll think about it."

"Thank you…" Lalleen nodded, then went to join his leader. The two men left, finally leaving the Atlantis delegation alone.

"Major, I need that jumper down here, _stat_." Carson didn't raise his voice, but from the way he'd lapsed into the heavy broag of his native tongue, John could tell he was worried. "That wound is badly infected, Colonel. The dressing has stuck to the wound so I'll leave it until we get back home, but I'm going to start an IV with some broad spectrum antibiotics."

John didn't answer. His eyes glazed over as the world became a fuzzy mass of dull lights and muted sounds. He didn't even hear Rodney's panicked voice as his friend called out his name.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter...and please review.


	5. Chapter 5

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 5

Carson guessed it was less than a couple of miles until they were in range of the library, but he opted for the jumper to get Sheppard home. The craft was here and while the journey from the space gate would take a little longer, his patient was in poor shape, so the less jostling about he got the better. Unfortunately the wee lassie looked terrified, but Sheppard's pulse was weak and thready so Carson's priority was clear. The colonel needed him the most.

From the little he'd learned about the planet it was clear that not only didn't the men and women co-habit, but from what he'd witnessed, there was no love lost between them either. Daalen seemed a reasonable enough man but his second in command was very bitter. While he'd tended Kalenn the man spouted forth such venom, it left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd wanted to give him a piece of his mind, but Carson had learned long ago that trying to reason with ignorance like that, was like casting pearls before swine. Kalenn was lucky Ronon hadn't heard. If he had, he would have had more than a few bruises to content with.

Camista's mum was no better. The nasty piece of work had threatened to kill her own flesh and blood. What kind of person, never mind a woman, would do something like that? The only thing Carson knew for sure was that the whole set-up was a bloody mess that if unchecked, would lead to extinction for both tribes.

The back of the jumper was crowded, but Camista had managed to make a small space for her and her child. She was shivering, probably from the exertion of recently given birth, but more than likely shock also played a part. Carson wasn't surprised. Not only had she endured a run in with her mother, but the color had drained from her face when the jumper de-materialised. She'd hesitated when the hatch opened. Even after John had been carried on board, he still hadn't been sure if she was going to join them. It was only at the last minute she'd tentatively walked on board.

He knew how she felt. Although he'd had a fair idea of what he'd been coming to, he remembered being struck dumb when he'd first walked through the 'gate. For Camista, seeing the sights and sounds of the jumper must be overwhelming. Up till now she'd lived a simple life in a land completely devoid of any sophisticated technology. It was no wonder she was scared witless.

"Camista…may I call you that?" Carson asked softly. "Colonel Sheppard…John…is very sick. He needs to be cooled down, but I have to change his dressing. Could you help?" He handed her a cooling cloth, and Camista stared at for it a moment before sliding off the seat and still with the babe held tightly against her breast, took it from his hand. "Just pat down his face…that's right."

With something to do, the wee lassie gradually stopped shaking as she began gently mopping the sweat off Sheppard's pasty white skin. Carson hadn't wanted to take off the dressing in the germ-ridden environment of the forest, especially as it was stuck to the wound. With the colonel unconscious, he no longer had such concerns. After soaking the dressing with saline, he deftly and quickly removed it without causing his patient any pain. Unfortunately, the condition of the wound was worse than he'd feared. Fresh discharge combined with dried yellow pus and sequeous fluid was caked around the burn where the bullet had entered his shoulder. He fully expected to find the exit wound in a similar mess.

There wasn't a great deal he could do in the cramped confines of the jumper, except clean it up. Sheppard's face creased in pain as Carson flushed out the gunge, but didn't wake. He quickly applied some antibiotic solution before gently affixing a fresh dressing. Just as he was about to repeat the procedure on his back, Carson heard Lorne giving his IDC. They were coming in to land, and not before time.

Carson looked up to find Camista's eyes upon him. "Is this my fault? Is John sick because of me?"

Carson considered cauterizing the wound barbaric, but he hadn't been present at the time so wasn't in a position to judge if it had been necessary. Without access to a medical facility the wee lassie had done the best she could. The Scot composed his face into a bland mask. "If you hadn't stopped the bleeding, John would already be dead. Don't worry. The Colonel's been through a lot worse than this. Once I get him into surgery I'll soon sort him out."

His words seemed to give the girl some comfort, but Rodney looked less than convinced. The scientist was unusually quiet, and even Ronon who never said much at the best of times didn't utter a sound even when one of the marines accidentally stood on his foot.

When the hatch came down, he was pleased to see Jennifer standing with a wheelchair alongside the gurney. Without a word being spoken she homed in on Camista and her child, but the new mother gripped John's hand reluctant to leave his side. Carson understood. John was the only one she knew. Everyone else was a stranger in a very strange place. Nevertheless, he didn't have the luxury of mollycoddling the lassie. He needed to get the colonel into the infirmary - quickly.

"Camista…this is Jennifer, she's a doctor. The little one looks fine, but I'm sure you would like to get him checked out properly?" Carson and Jennifer shared a knowing look. "And John said he wanted you to get checked out too…remember?"

Jennifer slowly edged forward and smiled. "What a gorgeous baby. What's his name?"

"_John_ would you believe?" Rodney huffed. He sounded peeved, but the snarky comment didn't mask the concerned overtones in his voice. The fact he prattled on only confirmed his anxiety. "Can you believe it? Sheppard can't see anything past me. I wonder how long he's been waiting to play midwife."

"_Not_ helping, Rodney," Keller whispered out the corner of her mouth, while still managing to keep a smile on her face.

Ronon rolled his eyes and grunted. The Satedan rose to his full height and pulled his team mate's jacket until Rodney was nearly on his tiptoes. "Let's go, McKay."

With the men gone, Jennifer kept talking quietly to Camista while Carson supervised Sheppard's removal from the jumper and accompanied him to the infirmary. The one-sided conversation continued as the wheelchair followed behind him. However, the colonel's condition was demanding his attention. Heat was radiating off his body in waves. He needed to get him into surgery to properly clean the wound, but Sheppard's vitals were all over the shop. Before he did anything, he had to stabilise the man first. Despite the confidence of his earlier words, Carson prayed to the man upstairs his friend would survive that long…

ooooOoooo

Teyla fingered the dressing on her head, and winced. She had been lucky. A little deeper, or a few centimetres to the left and Torren would have been left without a mother. It was a sobering thought, and not for the first time she contemplated the wisdom of the dangerous life she lead. Teyla remembered John's barely suppressed rage when she had first told him she was pregnant. At the time she had been hurt, confused even by his reaction but now, she understood all of his concerns. They were hers now too. Her feelings for John, Ronon and Rodney plus the important work they did still remained, but how long could she continue putting herself in harm's way?

Torren was now walking, saying his first words, starting to identify people and places. He was a smart child who was learning fast. At an age when he needed a mother's guidance more than ever, but whose mother was often not there. Teyla liked to believe that helping to keep Atlantis safe, and bringing peace to the galaxy was more important than being a stay at home mother. That spending quality time with her son was just as good as the length of time they shared together. She was aware it was a platitude most working mothers used to salve the nagging doubt, the guilt of being away from their children, but this time she had nearly died. Could she still justify her reasons for remaining in his team?

If she left Atlantis she might be a little safer, but while the Wraith were at large no one would ever be truly safe. Certainly she would be able to spend more time with her child, but at what cost? Torren was the first born of her tribe to be brought up in the home of the Ancients. It was a privilege. An opportunity for her son to have an education that was unsurpassed anywhere else. Swings and roundabouts are what John would have called this dilemma. All Teyla knew for sure was that all the conflict going on in her mind was making her head throb, and her eyes water.

The worse of the nausea had thankfully passed, but worry about John was making her stomach churn. The last thing she remembered about the mission was Rodney complaining about rain dripping down his neck the next - she had woken up in the infirmary. Carson had been gentle with her. Told her to get plenty of rest – sleep was the best medicine. Her brain had been foggy, and the medication in her system had pulled her into oblivion soon after. It was only after she awoke the second time that Jennifer had told her John was missing. Teyla had been unable to rest since.

The unmistakeable sound of gurney wheels clattering along the marble floors made her look round. She only caught a brief glance of dark spiky hair before Carson called out orders to the waiting staff, then John was moved out of sight. The Scot caught her watching, his expression making her heart sink before he quickly turned away. Jennifer followed soon after with another patient in a wheelchair. It was a girl with long curly red hair that fell from a middle parting down the length of her shoulders. She was carrying a child so tightly against her chest, Teyla wondered that the infant wasn't howling the place down.

Ronon and Rodney hovered in the entrance for a moment before coming over to join her. The two men said nothing for a moment, just standing there, their eyes constantly darting over to where Carson had taken John.

"How…how's the head?" Rodney asked, briefly pointing towards the dressing.

Teyla swallowed. She did not doubt her team mate's sincerity, but she was only too aware they were all skirting about the real issue. "I will be fine – how is John?"

"The bastards shot him!" The Satedan growled, and ground one of his fists into his other hand.

Alarmed, Teyla looked to Rodney for more information. "One of the Semalaens shot him while he was laying down cover for us. It was all one big _misunderstanding _according to the boss guy, or should I say the _male_ leader on the planet." At her confused expression Rodney elaborated. "Oh yeah…the situation down there is even more screwed up than we'd thought. It turns out there's been a gender war going on over there for centuries – that's why you got attacked. When they saw you those morons thought…Well it doesn't matter what their tiny, deluded brains thought, the bottom line is that when we walked in there, we walked right slap bang into the middle of it." Rodney let out a long sigh, and raked his hand through his hair. "Then of course Sheppard has to get _rescued_ by the daughter of the Priestess of the other tribe. Who…it just so happens, was about to give birth."

"Is that her?" Teyla nodded over to the girl who was still sitting in the wheelchair. "She appears to have had her child."

"_Brilliant _observation…"

"McKay!" Ronon glared at the scientist.

Rodney flushed red and looked guilty. "Sorry…I didn't mean -"

Teyla touched his arm. "Of course you didn't, you are worried as are we all. Please, you still haven't told me the status of his condition."

Rodney nodded towards the girl. "She cauterized his wound – I meant how gruesome is that? But it still got infected…"

"He's sick, Teyla…real sick." Ronon interrupted, his few words giving the answer she didn't want to hear.

"Sheppard collapsed on the planet. He hasn't regained consciousness since." Rodney continued, his voice trailing away.

Teyla felt the color drain from her face as the enormity of the words hit her. If John died, regardless of the circumstances, technically it would be her fault. He had stayed behind to allow them to get her into the safety of the library. She was angry at the Semalaens. Not only had they wounded her, but they had also tried to take the life of her friend. Why? Because she, a woman had dared to come onto their land. It was an inane way of thinking. A way of life that didn't make any sense.

The baby started to cry, drawing her to the eyes of the young woman holding it. There was fear within their depths, but also a grim determination. From the body language Teyla didn't need to hear what was being said. It was clear that Jennifer wanted to examine the child, but the mother refused to relinquish her baby. Instinctively she knew what to do.

"Where are you going?" Rodney asked when she pulled back the covers and eased her legs over the side of the bed.

"Jennifer is in need of my help. I was a stranger here too once. I also remember being a new mother, so I understand how the young woman will be feeling." Her legs were trembling slightly when she got onto her feet, and Ronon went to take her arm. "I will be fine, Ronon. I just need a minute." She smiled at her two friends who were looking at her anxiously as she waited to find her footing. "Jennifer was going to release me to my quarters today anyway."

Despite her protests Ronon raised an eyebrow and gently took her by the arm, only leaving her once she was at Jennifer's side. Rather than being cross because she was out of bed, the pretty medic's smile showed how relieved she was.

"Teyla, this is Camista." Jennifer moved aside to allow Teyla to sit down at the side of the girl's bed. "Teyla also has a young son. His middle name is John too."

Teyla resisted the impulse to raise her eyebrow and took Jennifer's lead. "Your baby is beautiful – you must be very proud. My son…Torren John, is getting so big now, it is hard to believe he was once that small."

Camista stared at her from under the veil of her long red hair. "You called your son after John too? Are you the woman he mentioned…his friend?"

Teyla smiled. "Yes…and proud to be so. John saved my people from the Wraith, and brought us here to Atlantis."

She could see confusion warring with fear in the pretty face. It was understandable. When she had first arrived in Atlantis everything had been so strange, that she wondered if she had done the right thing. As leader of her people she was well used to making important decisions relatively quickly, but this young woman had made the leap of faith alone, leaving her people behind. She admired her bravery.

"May I hold your son? I miss the scent of a newborn in my arms." Teyla asked, already reaching for the child. Camista looked hesitant, but Teyla kept smiling. Then the child was in her arms, the little fingers reaching for the hair falling down her shoulders.

Unseen by her patient Jennifer mouthed the words thank you. Camista seemly oblivious to the examination being carried out, the young mother too intent on watching her child in another woman's arms. Only when Teyla started to sing did she begin to relax. Her face already composed in sleep when the Athosian turned around to begin the second verse of Torren's favourite lullaby.

"I take it that John delivered the child?" Teyla asked softly with a hit of surprise as she cradled the whimpering baby closer to her chest.

Jennifer glanced over with a glint in her eye. "He did…and I think Rodney is a _little_ bit put out."

The women shared a smile. "I can well imagine." Teyla answered, her smile quickly fading. "How is he?"

"Weak, fevered." Jennifer gave a sad shrug. "Carson is replacing the lost fluids and pumping him full of antibiotics. He wants to get him strong enough for surgery. Camista cauterised the wound to stop the bleeding, but it had already got infected. She couldn't have known about the small fragment of the bullet lodged inside. We didn't know either until Carson put him under the scanner."

A shaft of pain speared through her skull, and Teyla winced. Jennifer peeled off her blue surgical gloves and gave instructions to Marie to make Camista comfortable. The doctor then reached down and took the baby from her arms. "I think it's time you got some rest, Teyla. Let's get you back to bed."

Her nose wrinkled in irritation, but Teyla did not resist when Jennifer guided her back to bed. "I thought you were going to release me to my quarters today?" She asked hopefully.

"I think what I actually said was '_we'll see'_." Jennifer smiled as she tickled the baby under the chin. "But you're still a little wobbly on your feet, and I don't need the penlight to see the strain lines around your eyes. Another twenty-four hours should hopefully do it. But-"

"We will see…" Teyla drew her friend a look as she lay back against the pillows, and tugged at the sheets in frustration.

Jennifer wasn't fazed in the least. She lifted the little one up against her shoulder grimacing slightly as her nose wrinkled. "This little guy needs changing…and a double check just to make sure that he's as perfect as he looks. In the meantime I'll send over some Tylenol to take the edge of that headache."

"Thank you, Jennifer. Please let me know about John as soon as you can."

"Of course I will. Now try to get some rest, okay?"

In response Teyla just nodded, she even closed her eyes. But while John was fighting for his life, she knew there would be no rest for anyone in Atlantis that night.

ooooOoooo

TBC.

Thanks again for all the reviews. I'm still trudging my way through the edits, and they give me the encouragement to keep working! Thanks too and apologies to Strey. My beta works really fast...which is just as well, otherwise the time between posts would be longer!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review. I'd love to know what you think of the story so far - Joanie.


	6. Chapter 6

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 6

A sharp, piercing noise startled Camista from a dreamless sleep. Frightened and confused, she sat bolt upright, searching for her son. Recollections of how she came to be there slowly broke through her foggy brain, but her heart was still racing until she saw him cleaned, and dressed in a pale blue patterned suit lying in a clear cot by the side of her bed.

She had also been changed into a white v-neck top while she'd slept, pants too by the feel of the soft material clinging against her legs. Camista had only ever worn shirts, but while the male garment felt strange, they weren't uncomfortable. Then again everything here was different. The unusual craft that brought her here. The towering buildings, that rose like mountains into the sky. The people who smiled and treated her as if she was something precious, not the girl who had disobeyed the rules of her people, the child who had disappointed her mother, and brought her tribe into disrepute.

The noise suddenly stopped to be replaced by another sound, like a thud. Voices urgent and demanding were drawing anxious looks from the passing women who were tending the sick nearby. Everyone was staring, looking towards the partitioned area at the end of the room. Instinct made her throw back the covers, and ease out of the comfortable bed, but she flinched at the stinging pain in the back of her hand. Camista frowned at the clear tubing snaking from her skin, and ripped it out. Blood dripped onto the clean, white sheets but she paid it no heed as compelled by the sounds, her bare feet padded across the cold surface of the floor to where the noise was coming from.

As she approached she heard the man who had asked her help John Sheppard on the journey over. His voice was clipped, hoarse with suppressed emotion as he barked out orders.

"Clear!"

No sooner than she'd heard him shout when another dull thud along with a zapping noise, like a swarm of bugs, ripped through the air. Shortly afterwards there was a strange smell. It was vaguely reminiscent of burning, but she couldn't place it. Unseen she slipped through the screens and her heart sank. John's back was arched as if suspended in mid air, but his eyes were closed and his face was devoid of any color. When he collapsed onto the bed, his long limbs lay deathly still against the sheets.

Carson wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his blue gloved hand. "Give me another amp of eppie." His jaw was set, his face grim with determination as he plunged a long needle deep into Sheppard's chest. "You are not going to die on me, Colonel…Do you hear me!"

Camista stifled a sob and saw the doctor's eyes upon her. "Get that lassie out of here."

She felt a hand on her arm, but resisted its pull. She didn't want to leave.

"Please, Camista…we have to let Carson do his job." Teyla's solemn tones make her turn round. There were unshed tears glistening in her eyes, and she was comforting a young dark-haired boy who was weeping into her neck.

As the two women walked into the ward, Ronon the large man with the long plated hair, and the short man called Rud-nee, came rushing towards them.

"What's happened?" He asked, his eyes darting towards the partition.

"John stopped breathing…and his heart stopped." A tear fell down Teyla's cheek.

Ronon's face creased in anger as he tightly folded his arms. "Carson will get him back. Sheppard's too stubborn to die."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, son. He's back…but it was far too close for comfort." Carson muttered as he came to join them. Beads of sweat were running down his face, and he sounded as tired as he looked. The medic ripped off his gloves and threw them in the trash.

He looked past the group of friends, and sought her out. "I'm sorry for what happened back there, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, lass."

It felt odd receiving an apology from a man, and made her feel slightly uneasy. From everything she'd learned in the camp, men were cruel creatures with no consideration, no compassion. Mother had once told her they would rather die than admit they were wrong. John wasn't like that, and it appeared neither were his friends. "I understand, Doctor. Is…is John going to survive?"

"_Duh_ - of course he's going to survive!" Rodney rolled his eyes and started to rant. "This is Sheppard we're talking about. He's been blown up, turned into a bug and fed on by a Wraith only to end up looking younger! It'll take more than a bullet to kill him."

Carson glared at the scientist, but the face he turned to her was kind. "You'll need to excuse Rodney, Camista. When he gets worried, sometimes he forgets his manners…_don't_ you, Rodney?"

Rodney went scarlet. He looked apologetic as he glanced between her then back to the doctor. "_Sorry_…but you know I'm right, Carson – Sheppard is a hard man to kill."

"The colonel is _not _bloody Superman," Carson sighed, "the fact is Camista is right to be cautious because right now, I can't answer that question." The doctor seemed to sag in front of her as his sad gaze took in everyone. "We're pumping him with the strongest drugs we have, but he's so weak from blood loss and infection, they're barely making an impression. He's fighting for his life…all we can do is wait."

"And pray," Camista said simply.

"_Aye_…" Carson reached out, lifted up her hand and examined the wound. "Och, you're bleeding. Teyla, would you take Camista back to her bed, please? I'll send someone to sort that out."

A subdued Rodney lifted up his laptop. "Can I sit with him?"

Carson slowly nodded and patted his shoulder. "I don't see why not. Talk to him too…you're good at that."

Rodney narrowed his eyes and drew him a dirty look.

"Damn it man, I didn't mean it like _that_." Carson blurted out, looking embarrassed. "As I've told you before studies have shown that it's good to talk to someone in a coma."

"Yeah…you might bore him awake." Ronon mumbled under his breath.

"_Just_ find me a chair." Rodney glared at his team mate. He was still muttering under his breath as he marched ahead. "Something comfortable. Don't forget I've got a bad back."

"Are they always like this?" Camista asked as the two women walked back into the ward.

Teyla nodded, and gave her a small smile. "We are not just a team, Camista, we are a family."

Camista was puzzled, as none of these people looked remotely alike. She was struggling to understand how they could possibly be related.

Teyla saw her confusion, and stopped. "No…they do not share my blood, but these men are like my brothers. John…he is more than that, he is also my best friend. He is the reason why I joined the Atlantians fight against the Wraith…the reason why I will continue to do so. I trust him. What we do is important. It can be a dangerous life, but if we want peace sometimes risks have to be taken. Hopefully one day my son will be able to live in a galaxy at peace. He will be able to enjoy a life, and grow old in a place free from the threat of the Wraith." Teyla went quiet for a moment as she looked lovingly at her son's face, and gave him a cuddle. The older woman appeared thoughtful, as if she had made a decision.

Camista glanced at the toddler who was peeking at her every now and again. "I know he is not your partner, but is John the father of your child?"

Teyla blushed and quickly shook her head. "No…but because of him both Torren and I are alive today. He saved both of our lives, risking his own in the process."

Camista realized her own experience of the man who came to her aid was almost the same. If it wasn't for John...She shuddered when she thought of what she'd nearly lost.

"Please tell me about him, Teyla. I want to learn everything about him. I want to know all about the John Sheppard you know."

ooooOoooo

Ronon was snoring, his large feet perched on the side of the bed twitching, but Carson didn't have the heart to wake him.

On the face of it, Sheppard's team didn't look like a good fit, but the colonel's unit surpassed every other on the base. The reason? No one knew for certain, but Carson guessed it was because of a deep abiding friendship that went beyond the bond they shared as a team. They could bicker and torment the life out of each other, but if anyone said or did anything to hurt one of their number – pity help them.

Right now they were all coping with the worry in their different ways. When he wasn't sitting with John, Rodney was working until the wee small hours in the lab. His obsessive personality was a concern, and Carson had asked his team mates to make sure the scientist both ate regularly, and _remembered _where his bed was.

Teyla had taken Camista under her wing. The young lass and her bairn were now staying with her and Kaanan. At least until John awoke and was able to help the girl plan her future. As for Ronon, he sparred. Even from across the room Carson could see the skint red knuckles, but that was nothing compared to the assortment of cuts, bruises, and black eyes his staff had treated over the last few days. When Lorne stopped the big fella from using his men to work off steam, Ronon ran instead. It was hard for him to express his emotions.

The Satedan was a man of few words at the best of times, but his actions spoke volumes. From the time Ronon arrived on Atlantis he had followed Sheppard through thick and thin. Carson didn't know if the colonel was even aware of it, but Ronon didn't just have his back, he acted as his protector. Even now his posture, those two long legs stretched out across the bed were giving the signal - mess with him at your peril. But he wasn't afraid, never had been. Not even the first time he'd met the runner. It was all in the eyes. Ronon could be fierce. He was certainly someone you didn't want to get on the wrong side of, but Carson had never seen any malice there. Still, it didn't pay to startle him.

He was usually careful to tread softly in the intensive care unit, but today he allowed the sound of his footsteps to reverberate around the room. Ronon still hadn't stirred, so he clattered the metal chart as he picked it up, giving it an extra bang on the edge of the bed. The loud noise didn't have quite the response he'd expected.

"_Shh_…trying to sleep…"

John's hoarse, weak voice grabbed his attention. His irritated expression so cross that Carson choked back a laugh of sheer relief.

Ronon opened an eye and looked round at the man in the bed. "Sheppard?"

"Wha?"

As Carson came over, Ronon quickly pulled down his barrier to allow the doctor access. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"

His body shifted slightly in the bed, and Sheppard's face winced in pain. "Tired…sore…hot."

Carson started checking the machines around the bed, and smiled. John Sheppard was still a very sick man, but at least now he was on the road to recovery. "I'll give you something for the pain presently then let you get back to sleep, but first I need to see your eyes."

"D..._don't_ want to." Sheppard was frowning as he moved his face away, his chin jutted out in a pout. Ronon grunted in amusement.

He wanted to laugh himself, but as John couldn't see his amusement Carson put on his firmest, no nonsense tone. "_Colonel_…"

There was a disgruntled mumble before his belligerent patient slowly turned his head back, and peeled opened his eyes. Carson already had the hated penlight in his hand and didn't waste any time confirming that his patient was indeed on the mend. John's was blinking away the sleep from his eyes and Carson took a soft cloth and gently wiped the edges clean.

"Better?" Without waiting for an answer, he took the seat vacated by Ronon. "It's nice to have you back, Colonel…you gave us all quite a scare. I had to open up the wound to take out a fragment left behind by the bullet, but it was the infection it had caused that gave us the most concern. I dare say you'll still be feeling a wee bit too hot for a few more days, but we're on top of it now. It will soon pass."

John nodded. He was starting to close his eyes when they sprang back open. "Teyla?"

Marie came over with a tray, and Carson nodded his thanks. "She's fine…in fact she's taken that young friend of yours under her wing." He loaded up the syringe with a strong dose of pain relief, and pushed it into the IV port. He smiled. "Anyway…I hear you've taken up obstetrics. I should warn you Rodney's nose is a little out of joint, especially as you now have _two_ babies named after you."

A small smile grew on John's tired face. "Yeah…how about that."

The Scot put the empty vessel onto the cabinet, feeling a twinge in his own back as he got to his feet. "That should take the edge off and let you get some more rest."

"Thanks, Doc…" John slurred, as the meds took effect.

Carson patted his arm. "It's my pleasure, son." But his words went unheard as Sheppard's face went slack, and his slow rhythmic breathing confirmed he was back in the land of nod.

Ronon reclaimed the empty chair, leaned back and once again stretched his legs out. Carson was half way back to his office when he heard the Satedan call after him. "Get some rest, doc…he's going be okay."

Carson turned back and nodded. "Aye, he is…goodnight, Ronon – I'm away to my bed."

His back was louping, but a hot shower would work out the kinks of too many long nights sleeping in his office chair. If it didn't, he'd pay a visit to that wee lassie that ran the library. Apparently she had worked as a masseuse while studying for her degree and according to Marie, her hands were pure gold. Come to think of it that might not be a bad idea. Ever since Teyla had been shot, he'd been wondering about the book that was chosen to initiate the mission in the first place.

Raedelous, the planet mentioned within the yellowed pages, had been chosen as it seemed a safe option. It also had a space 'gate that linked up with their database. The author of the volume had described its residents as unremarkable, a straightforward farming community devoid of any technology. In the footnote it casually mentioned they produced quite a diverse range of crops. Lorne had made further visits, and pursued their request to become allies as he'd seen the value of what they produced. Raedelous would be useful source of supplies in the event Atlantis ever got cut off from Earth again. Besides, they had asked for help against the Wraith.

There had been nothing, not a sniff of a clue about the unrest they'd discovered there. He wanted to know what the book said about the strange set up of its residents. There was something else that was bothering him. If this planet had no technology, why the hell had the Ancients written a book about a bunch of simple farming folk?

ooooOoooo

TBC.

Many thanks again for all the feedback - it's much appreciated!

I also hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review.


	7. Chapter 7

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 7

"Is this the best you could do?" John stared at the sickly, yellow broth in the bowl and pushed it away in disgust. "I wanted a nice juicy steak with mash potatoes on the side, or some of Martha's pot roast. Hell…I would even have settled for a turkey sandwich!"

Rodney squirmed on the chair, and closed his laptop with a snap. "It's not _my_ fault - blame Carson. I tried to sneak in a sandwich but he caught me coming into the ward with it and took it off me." There was an uneasy silence, before he mumbled under his breath. "The soupy stuff really isn't that bad you know."

John was set to continue his rant when he saw how hurt Rodney looked. He was pissed at still feeling crappy, worn down by the persistent pain in his shoulder, and well and truly fed up at still being laid up in the infirmary. The fact he still wasn't allowed a decent meal wasn't helping, but Rodney didn't deserve the backlash.

He took one of the crackers, crumbled it into the broth and took a spoonful. "You're right. It's, _uh_, not half bad." He forced a smile on his face he wasn't feeling. "I'm sorry, Rodney. I know I've been a bit well…grumpy, but I'm sick of being…_sick_. I swear I'm never going into that freaking library again. That damn portal leads to nothing but trouble."

"Look, I get it…but whether you like it or not that _freaking_ library is a valuable resource. Maybe next time we'll have better luck." John couldn't believe his ears, and let the spoon fall, clanging against the bowl. He narrowed his eyes and glared at him, but the scientist was back on his laptop oblivious to his bad mood. Rodney looked round and snorted. "As for being a _bit _grumpy…you've been a pain in the ass, Sheppard. Even Ronon is pissed with you. He tore a hole through a punch bag after you snapped at him yesterday, and I don't know what you said to Teyla, but when she left here she actually muttered under her breath. I've never know her to do that before."

"That bad, huh?" John cringed, and felt the color rise up his neck. Up till now he thought he'd been handling his incarceration okay. He wanted the bed to swallow him – whole.

Rodney put the laptop to the side looked around the ward, then fished something out of his pocket. After yet another glance in the direction of Carson's office he un-wrapped the white package and produced a blueberry muffin. He broke it in half and offered John a piece. "Quick…before the voodoo doctor spots us. I have a medical due, and I really don't want to get on his bad side. Have you seen the size of some of those needles?"

John didn't need to be told twice. He took a bite and a genuine smile grew on his face as the soft, moist muffin melted into his mouth. The taste of the blueberries was the sweetest thing he tasted since, well, it felt like forever. At the sound of familiar footsteps, John stuffed the remaining bit of cake into his mouth. Panicked, Rodney shoved his into his pocket.

Carson came over and stopped at the end of the bed. He raised an eyebrow. "Enjoying your lunch, Colonel?"

His mouth was full, so John just nodded. Rodney was battering the keys on his computer, avoiding Carson's suspicious gaze.

The Scot picked up the spoon in the largely uneaten broth, and gave John a questioning look. "I know your diet is a little boring, Colonel, but you're recovering from a nasty infection which has given your system quite a knock. You're still carrying a bit of a temperature, and whether you believe me or not, your stomach just isn't up to anything too stodgy…or highly flavoured." Carson handed over a Petri dish and stood back watching him with his arms folded.

He was busted and they both knew it. John spat out the remaining cookie, wanting to disappear under the covers. Carson poured some water into a cup and handed it took him. "I'm sorry, Carson…but don't blame Rodney, I asked him to bring me something nice."

Red-faced, Rodney's eyes went wide. "That's right, it's not my fault! He _made_ me do it…"

Carson put his hand up, and Rodney took the hint to shut up. "Despite what you believe, Rodney, I didn't get my medical degree over the internet. However there's no harm done so let's just leave it at that. Now, Colonel…I think it's about time we got you on your feet. Are you game for a wee walk down the ward?"

"Am I ever…" John grinned.

"Rodney, when I start to turn the colonel round, I want you to slowly guide his legs off the bed." Rodney nodded, as Carson raised the back of the bed until he was sitting upright. Beads of sweat were already starting to run down his face, and pooling in the small of his back, and he hadn't even gone anywhere yet. When Carson put an arm around to gently ease him forward, John hissed as the fire reignited in his shoulder. Carson stopped and locked eyes with him. "Try to relax and let me do most of the work. I would suggest you press the pump to top up your meds before we start again."

John shook his head. "No thanks…I'd rather deal with a little pain than have that spaced out feeling again."

"Fine...but if I find out you haven't been taking sufficient medication the pump goes, and you'll no longer have a say in the matter." The Scott told him evenly, in a no nonsense tone. "Now…I'm going to ease you towards the edge of the bed in three stages. Take slow deep breaths…If the pain gets too much, let me know."

Every inch jarred his shoulder, the short agonizing journey leaving him shaken and struggling to catch his breath by the time he was perched on the edge of the bed. Rodney had gone white watching his uncomfortable progress. John reckoned he must look as bad as he felt, but his ordeal wasn't over yet.

"Lean against me for a few minutes until you get your breath back." Carson instructed, and he was happy to comply. Almost immediately the Scot winced and rolled his shoulder.

"What's up, Doc? Am I too heavy?"

Rodney looked incredulous. Just as the scientist opened his mouth, no doubt to make a snarky comment about his weight, or lack of, Carson glowered at the scientist before replying to his question. "No, son…far from it. My back's been playing up a bit, but I'm getting a massage this afternoon. Hopefully by tomorrow I'll be a new man."

"A masseuse? When did Atlantis hire one of those?" John wondered when that had happened. There was a chance he'd missed the memo in the mound of paperwork, or emails that he hadn't got round to before he'd got wounded. Or maybe this had been Woolsey's idea. Somehow he doubted it. The appointment didn't sound like something the straight-laced, penny-pinching, diplomat would have approved.

"_Err_…well…we've actually had a qualified masseuse living here for a while now." Carson muttered, while checking John's pulse.

Rodney broke out in a grin. "That's fantastic! Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have started treatment for my back months ago."

"So…who is this mystery woman? Or is it a man?" John asked, surprised to see Carson flush scarlet. He'd never seen Carson look so embarrassed. The doctor was practically squirming.

"It's that wee lassie who runs the library -"

"Nicky Kozlov?" Rodney's eyes lit up, but not for long. His expression quickly changed as his face clouded over. "And just _how_ long have you known about this?" Rodney pointed a finger at him. "You've been keeping that piece of information to yourself – haven't you!"

The Scot was getting exasperated, and he let out a long sigh. "For starters, Rodney, Doctor Kozlov already has a job. If you deign to recall she's in charge of the library." He said sarcastically. "Secondly…for the very reason you've just demonstrated, she's been trying to keep this quiet. The lassie doesn't want inundated with requests. Nicky only gives sessions to friends."

Rodney was getting redder and practically bouncing on the spot. "So it's _Nicky_, is it?"

"_Hells bells_, Rodney…would you just hear yourself, man!" Carson groaned, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, if you must know Marie and Dr Kozlov are good friends. Marie knows I've been having a bit of bother with my back, so she asked her if she would look at it. That's it. There's _nothing_ going on, Rodney…except whatever is running through that so-called brilliant brain of yours."

His head was pounding, but John could only sit there while the two men bickered. He liked Nicky, and owed her for helping him out of a jam the last time he'd come to grief in the library, but the dull angry pain in his shoulder was making him tremble, and the very mention of the library was making him feel ill. "Guys…this is all very interesting, but I think you should know something."

"What is it, Sheppard? Don't tell me you've had a massage from Nicky too!"

John went a shade whiter and put a hand over his mouth. "No, Rodney - I'm going to throw up…"

ooooOoooo

Sheppard's body was trembling with each laboured step but despite his shambling footsteps, he didn't stumble. Carson held him firmly around the waist, not leaving his side until they reached their goal – the end of the ward. Sweat was rolling down his wan face, but there was a glint in the hazel eyes Carson hadn't seen for some time.

"Well done, Colonel, but I think that's enough for one day." Carson nodded to Marie, and the nurse started to bring over a wheelchair.

John was breathing hard, but he grabbed his friends arm. "I'm good, Carson…I'd really like to try the return journey." Carson was about to refuse when Ronon sauntered round the corner. John smiled at his team mate. "If you're worried Chewie here can walk on the other side. Please?"

Ronon said nothing, but the Satedan took up position on the side of John's wounded shoulder.

Carson glanced between the two conspirators, but didn't nod straight away. "Okay, but Marie will still follow with the chair. Remember what I said this morning, Colonel. It's good to push yourself a bit but don't overdo things. And despite how you feel about the meds, if you don't take enough pain relief it will only hold you back in the long run."

In response John made a point of pushing the button on his medication dispenser. Within moments, Carson watched the strain lines around his eyes and mouth relax. "See? I don't need to be told twice…I'm sorry about this morning, I behaved like an ass – it won't happen again."

Ronon grunted. "Yeah, _right_…"

"At least you didn't have enough of the muffin to do any lasting damage." Carson started to smile. "I don't know about Rodney though. I think you might've put him off muffins for life. Anyway…are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be…"

Sheppard was dead on his feet by the time he reached his bed, but despite being worn out he looked happier than Carson had seen him for a while. Without being asked Ronon simply picked him up, and laid his friend on top of the sheets. For once John didn't complain, and the pilot was asleep within seconds. While Ronon made himself comfortable in the chair by the bed, he did a final check of his patient's vitals before heading to his quarters.

He was tired. It had only been a week since they'd got John home, but his friend had been so ill for most of that time he'd barely managed more than forty winks during his scant breaks. At least now he could relax a little, happy his patient was finally on the mend. The infection was clearing up nicely, his temp was almost back to normal and although the shoulder wound looked nasty, he was confident with physical therapy there wouldn't be any permanent damage. He rolled his shoulders and winced at the pain shooting through his lower back. Jennifer had prescribed him something stronger than Tylenol, but Carson resisted taking it.

After his earlier conversation with John, he privately conceded that made him a bit of a hypocrite, but justified his reluctance to take meds as there was a difference in their situation. A little voice in the back of his head told him it was a moot point. Carson blanked it out and headed for the shower.

Nicky has asked him to come to the library, but by the time he reached the entrance his palms were sweating. He knew it was nonsensical to be nervous, but he was essentially a private man, and was feeling uneasy at exposing his body to the ministrations of a very attractive young lady. He was aware that more precautions had been put in place in the six months since Sheppard discovered the place. One of them was the plastic container full of silver colored bracelets attached to the wall by the entrance. Carson took one, put it around his wrist, and placed it under the scanner. Only then did the light above the door turn from red to green then swish open to grant him access.

He knew there were over twelve people working there but the library was so vast, he neither heard nor saw a soul. Many of the books, especially those concerned with research, had been moved to a more secure part of the library. No one needed to tell the ATA carriers to avoid the bookshelves locked behind the iron bars. The injuries Sheppard sustained from the vicious beastie that had attacked him, were more than enough to quell the most curious minds.

Doctor Kozlov had also made some improvements to her work space in the last few months. She still had an open plan area to receive visitors, but beyond that she'd had an office built to accord her some privacy. It was from there that the sound of voices floated across the room. The closer he got Carson identified one of them as male. From the giggles, and hushed tones he also became uncomfortably aware there was a romantic liaison taking place. The door was slightly ajar, but not enough to see who the good lady was with. Carson took a deep breath, and counted inwardly to ten before he chapped.

"Doctor Kozlov, it's Carson…Doctor Beckett. Marie said I was to come and see you this afternoon, but if this is a bad time I'll come back later."

A few seconds later Nicky opened the door. Behind her dressed in a pair of jeans and blue tee, was Lorne.

Nicky smiled. "Come in, Doctor Beckett…I was expecting you. Major Lorne was just leaving."

Lorne gave her a warm glance as he went to leave. "I'll see you later, Nicky. Doc, how's the colonel? I was hoping to pay him a visit later."

"He's a little better today. He's sleeping at the moment, but I know he would be pleased to see you. But, Major…if you're planning on giving him a report that's fine, but try to leave out – or at least tone down – anything that you think would get him worked up." Carson warned.

Evan winked. "Message received, Doc. I'm just about to go on duty so I'll drop by in a couple of hours."

Left alone Carson reflected on what he'd nearly witnessed. Evidence of the remains of a picnic was scattered over her desk. Nicky Kozlov was glowing, her skin radiant and her eyes shining as she made small talk while she cleared away the left overs into the trash. If Rodney knew his friend might not be heartbroken, but he would be disappointed. Still, it was clear he had unwittingly stumbled onto a private moment. It wasn't his place to either speculate on their relationship, or reveal his suspicions to others. His old mum hadn't brought him up to be a gossip.

Nicky looked at her greasy hands in disgust before heading to a small sink in the corner of the room. Adjacent to it was a long padded bench covered with a white paper sheet. Carson was surprised to see it was a professional masseuse bench. Nicky glanced up and caught him looking. "As you know I don't advertise my skills, but I do not wish to lose them either. My bench can be flat packed, so I take it where ever I go…including another galaxy." She smiled at her own joke, and extended her hand towards the bench. "Please…take off your shirt, loosen your pants, and lie face down."

Carson was glad her back was to him as he quickly pulled off his tee-shirt, and undid the cord of his sweat pants. He felt awkward as he climbed onto the bench, and placed his head in the gap for that purpose. Relieved she couldn't see his face when she pulled down his pants almost to the crack, before tentatively exploring the area with the tips of her fingers.

"Ah…I think I can see the problem, Doctor Beckett. Is the pain intermittent, or is it with you all the time?"

Carson had to think about it for a moment. "Please…call me Carson. As for the pain I would say it's more or less intermittent. It starts when I've been sitting too long, or when I bend or try to reach something from a tall shelf."

"Have you had it scanned?" Nicky asked, her clipped accent making the question sound a little abrupt.

"Aye…but Jennifer…Doctor Keller didn't find anything."

"As a doctor, I do not need to tell you that axial low back pain can be like that." He heard her step back, walk over to her workstation, and then return with something she was rubbing into her hands. "Here is what I intend to do. To begin with I will start with some gentle massage, then before you leave I will give you a leaflet with some exercises to follow before our next session." He tensed up when she laid her hands on his back. Nicky stopped for a moment. "Carson…you must relax." She sounded a little impatient, and he inwardly groaned at being caught out. "I am as good a masseuse as you are a doctor, so I need you to trust me."

"I'm sorry, lass…I just find it awkward being on the receiving end. It's true what they say. Doctors never make good patients."

"Yes…I have heard that before." He heard the smile in Nicky's voice. "Would you like some music? I have my iPod. I would be happy to let you borrow it."

"Actually…would it break your concentration if I asked some questions about the book?" When there was silence, Carson realized it had been a stupid thing to say. Nicky spent her life around books. "_Sorry_…what I should have said was I want to know more about the book that was linked to the last mission."

"Certainly…What happened to Colonel Sheppard's team was…_unexpected_." Nicky said sadly. "The book was set on Raedelous, a planet we later linked up with the database. It also contained a few notes about the landscape, the people and the crops they produced, but...that was merely the backdrop to a love story." She smiled and her eyes shone. "I never took the Ancients to be a romantic race, but the author of this book would have made the best seller list back home."

"So it was a work of fiction?" Surprised he tensed up again, but quickly made himself relax before he got into her bad books.

"Yes, we have a number of those on the shelves. Many are thrillers, and there are quite a few children's books, but so far this is the first romance novel we have come across. It is about a man who arrived on the planet and fell in love with one of the farmers wives. They tried to ignore how they felt, but in the end their desire was too strong. When his work was done they made plans to run away together, however...it all went wrong. The woman didn't show up at their meeting place at the designated time, and when he turned up at the settlement to seek her out, not only could he not see his lover, but there wasn't a sign of any of the women who resided there. When he and his friends approached the farmhouse they were fired upon. It was an ambush. He got away unhurt, but one of his friends was killed. He left the planet never to return…" Carson heard her sigh and her voice thicken slightly. "There was a little lost in translation, but that was the essence of the story."

Her hands were soft as silk. The deep, rhythmic movement pressing against his tender muscles almost sending him to sleep, but there was something about the story that roused him from his comfortable fugue. "Tell me…Do you think it's possible this book could be autobiographical?"

She stopped, and when she moved her hands away Carson almost wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Nicky started again at the same time as she began answering his question. "I suppose it could be. In fact…would you excuse me a minute, Carson?"

Before he could answer Carson shivered as a waft of cold air played across his exposed skin. Nicky returned a couple of minutes later. "Oh, my…I do not understand why I didn't spot that before?" The Russian woman muttered something in her native tongue, as something hard landed on the desk. Carson guessed from her tone she was angry at herself.

Carson had been enjoying the massage but his curiosity was getting the better of him. "Are we finished, lass? May I sit up?"

"Of course," Nicky took most of his weight as she helped him into a sitting position, then motioned for him to take the seat on the other side of her desk. She turned round the book so he could see it. "There is a picture of a locket on the front cover, but I thought nothing of it. Several of the books have a logo, or pattern of some kind or other. However…a similar locket was discovered at the top of the bookshelf the other day. I assumed it had belonged to one of the original librarians who'd worked here, but then again it isn't of Ancient design…in fact it has a more rustic pattern." Nicky sounded distracted as she opened her drawer and rummaged inside. "Here it is!" The pretty Russian held it up to the light briefly examined it, then laid it against the picture on the cover. It was an almost identical match.

"May I?" Carson put out his hand for the locket, and Nicky placed it in his palm. His mum owned something similar and when he ran his finger around the edge, he found the catch. Nicky's eyes widened in surprise when she saw the two strands of red hair locked in either side of the locket.

Carson opened up one of the sides, and felt the strand. He knew straight away it was the real deal. "I think we can safely say this wasn't just a story. In fact…once I've had this hair analyzed I have an idea it might just shed some light on what happened on that planet." Carson's face clouded over. "If I'm right, I think it may be an Ancient who was responsible for a rift in a society that has lasted for generations."

ooooOoooo

TBC.

So, is this another twist in the tale? I promise all the questions will be revealed in the fullness of time!

I just want to say a big thank you for all the reviews. I really appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts with me - Joanie.


	8. Chapter 8

Many thanks to all those who reviewed, it's much appreciated!

Now we know there was more to the book than just a simple story, what happens next? And how is John doing?

**The Tender Trap**.

Chapter 8.

In the throes of his troubled sleep John had sensed a presence nearby, but it was the gurgle of childish laughter that roused him to full awareness.

He'd been back in that damned bunker, restrained hand and foot to the chair as Todd appeared in the entrance for the third time. The memory was so fresh that his heart was racing, hammering against his ribs, and his chest was burning. When he summoned the courage to open his eyes, he discovered his knuckles were as white as the sheets he was gripping, and his damp scrubs were clinging uncomfortably to his hot, clammy skin. Suddenly aware of his audience John attempted to shake off the lethargy that seemed to be his constant companion, and quickly struggled into a sitting position. Too quickly it turned out, as the hurried action sent pain ripping through his shoulder forcing an expletive from his throat. Both Teyla and Camista looked at him with concern.

"John…"

Before Teyla could say any more, he forced a smile he wasn't feeling. "I'm fine – _honest_. Sure…I'm the first to admit I won't be up to hand to hand with a Wraith any time soon, but at least I'm on the mend."

His team mate's silence continued, but her unflinching, cynical expression spoke volumes. John pressed the advantage of the brief sojourn by reaching out to the squirming child lying against Camista's breast. The baby's small chubby hand grabbed hold of his finger and Torren, who was watching the scene with interest, giggled. His laughter was so infectious, that soon all three adults couldn't hold back the smiles.

"He's looking good, Camista." John glanced up from the child to its mother. The last time he'd seen the young native she'd looked exhausted with dark circles under her eyes, and her complexion drained by the long labour she'd endured. Now her creamy skin glowed with health, and her lustrous flaming-red hair shone. In her own way she was just as beautiful as the woman sitting alongside. "So…how do you like Atlantis?"

"It is a wondrous place, Colonel, and the people have been so kind to us." Camista threw a grateful glance at Teyla, but he could tell something was up. It wasn't anything concrete, but he couldn't shake the vibe he was getting. He waited for the other shoe to drop.

As he shifted to sit a little straighter, Teyla propped a pillow behind his head. He nodded his thanks then turned his attention to Atlantis newest resident. "You're not under my command, Camista, so the name is John. But what's up? You're not happy are you."

Camista went scarlet. "Please don't think me ungrateful…it's not that I'm _unhappy. _And I do not regret my actions – how could I give up this little one? But…I miss my home. I know our way of life isn't perfect and, from the short time I've been here I understand why you find our customs so strange. It must seem very foreign…however it isn't all bad." She smiled, but her eyes looked sad. "I miss waking up to the salidines' sweet chorus, tending the vines under the warm glow of the morning sun. Most of all, I miss the comradeship of my sisters. At night we would gather together by the fire to share our evening meal under the stars. It was then we would talk about our day, share our dreams for the future, then later we would spar inside the great circle."

At John's raised eyebrow, Camista laughed. "Why do you look so surprised? I have watched Teyla in action – _very_ impressive." She grinned at the Athosian. "And I have seen the women here who bear arms. It is clear they would willingly give their lives to protect Atlantis. On my planet there has been a peace of sorts for many years, but my mother is a cautious woman. As leader of our tribe she wants us to be ready for battle. Make sure our skills are honed so we are prepared should the Semalaens ever attack again. In any case they are friendly bouts, but no less hard because of it. I sit…or _did_ by my mother's side not because I was her only daughter - I'd earned my place by being the best." Camista blinked back unshed tears. "They are my people, John, and I miss them…even my mother." She shrugged. "I can't blame her for hating me. In her eyes I have betrayed them, her, and I know I can't go back." The baby started to grumble and Camista tickled the little chin with her finger. When she raised her head, her expression held a grim determination. "As I said before I do not regret my decision. I just wish things could have been different."

Teyla put her hand over the younger woman's, and gave it a squeeze. "Perhaps it will not always be this way. Mr Woolsey and Major Lorne have already engaged in preliminary meetings with Daalen. From what I have heard, he has not been unreceptive to the idea of a permanent truce."

Camista frowned and her face darkened. "My mother will never agree. A few years ago one of the older women suggested that for the sake of survival we should consider making peace with the Semalaens. Mother had her brutally whipped for treason. No one has broached the subject since."

It didn't surprise him. Pellista didn't seem like the forgiving type but, maybe he'd pegged her wrong. He hoped so. If they wanted the talks to work, they needed her input at the negotiations. Daalen was another matter. He'd only met him once, but on the face of it he seemed to be a reasonable sort of guy. It sparked a memory. "Before that day in the forest, did you know Daalen was your father?" John asked quietly. He watched the anger leave her face only to be replaced with uncertainly. Camista didn't meet his eyes as she answered.

"No…I didn't. But it is of no consequence. He played no part in my upbringing."

"I get that, but if you ask me I reckon he'd wanted to be a part of your life. At least that's the impression I got. For what its worth I'm pretty sure you could start a relationship with him now…if you _want_ to." Camista gave him the evil eye but he ignored it. He was growing tired, and his good arm started to tremble as he swept his longer than normal hair back from his forehead. He wanted a shave, a haircut, and a proper shower. The whole invalid thing was really getting to him.

"Is this a meeting of the John Sheppard Appreciation Society, or can anyone join in?"

John's mouth curled at the edges despite himself. "New members are always welcome, Rodney."

"If it means I'll have to call my future male offspring John, Johnny or Jonathan…I think I'll pass." He rolled his eyes, and snorted derisively.

Camista swept her child onto her shoulder and rose to her feet. "This little one needs feeding, so you may take this chair, Doctor McKay." It didn't escape his notice that she barely glanced in his direction as she started to move away. "Good day…_Colonel_. I am glad to see you looking better."

He inwardly flinched at the icy tone, but kept his expression languid. "Thanks for the visit…and for bringing the little guy to see me." In response she nodded, sending the long red curls bobbing around her shoulders. Within moments she was nearly out of the ward, her long skirt sweeping the floor as she went.

Teyla looked towards the retreating figure with concern. She kissed the top of Torren's head before lifting her son onto the floor. "I will go after her. I agree with you, John, it would be better for her and the child if she allowed Daalen into her life, but it must be difficult to dismiss her upbringing."

John winced as he reached to take the glass of orange from the tray Rodney had laid across his lap. "By that remark I take it she's finding it difficult to adjust to our way of life?"

"You are the only man Camista is truly comfortable with. The first male nurse who tried to tend little John ended up with a black eye, and a dislocated shoulder." Teyla let out a long sigh. "Jennifer and Carson had a word with her, so have I, but she still tenses up whenever a man she doesn't know approaches. I understand why, she is unused to living in a mixed community. However, even amongst the men she does know, Camista is clearly uneasy."

"Seriously?" Rodney raised an eyebrow, and began rubbing his shoulder. "Shouldn't there be a guard with her…or something?"

"Mr Woolsey suggested that, but as she was only following her instincts I felt it was unfair to treat her like a criminal, especially as we are trying to earn her trust. I volunteered to be her escort while she stays in the city." Teyla informed them in a quiet voice.

"She doesn't know…does she?" John frowned, and they shared an anxious look.

Teyla silently shook her head. "No…and I would appreciate it – Rodney - if you did not impart this information to anyone."

Rodney had just taken a bite of strawberry shortcake. As he started to speak crumbs fell out, and he started to choke. John handed him a glass of water, and Teyla thumped his back so hard he nearly fell off the chair. The scientist looked up indignant. "Well that's nice! How come you trust him…but not me? I can keep a secret too, you know."

"Of _course _you can, and I meant no offence, Rodney." Teyla crossed her fingers behind her back, and John suppressed a smile at the Earth habit he'd taught her. "I only meant that while John is in the infirmary, he is out of circulation. We however are working and mixing with others around the city and, when people are tired from working long hours it is very easy to accidentally let something slip out – and no one works as hard as you do."

Rodney straightened up, and brushed the crumbs off his jacket. "Well…I suppose I can see what you're getting at. And I do work harder than anyone on the base – but I'm still surprised you thought I would have said anything."

Teyla smiled at him, and gave John a sideways wink. "Again, I am sorry if I gave that impression…now I must be going. It is past Torren's nap time. I will come and visit you later, John."

As Teyla walked away, she passed Ronon on his way in. The Satedan only stopped briefly to ruffle Torren's hair before he came to join them. He stopped by the bed and nodded toward the entrance. "What's with Camista? She almost pushed me to the side when she rushed past me."

John waggled his good hand, and gave him a wry smile. "That would be me…I kind of suggested she got to know her dad."

The Satedan scratched his chin. "Didn't go down well, huh?"

"_Yeah_…you could say that, buddy." John sighed. "Anyway, you were at the last meeting, right? How did you think it went?"

"Okay…Daalen seems a reasonable guy, but his SIC looked pissed. I reckon he's got some resistance."

"That's to be expected. They've lived this way for generations. It's not possible to change the customs of a lifetime overnight." John reasoned.

He'd gotten the impression that Daalen was receptive to some form of change, plus it was clear from their short meeting that the guy wanted to know his daughter, and her child. It wasn't going to be an easy task, but he hoped the leader would be able to win the support of most of his men. "What about the Vergonans?"

Ronon shook his head causing his dreads to twitch around his face. "Nah…no dice. Woolsey couldn't get her to come to the party."

An image of Pellista flashed into his mind. The Priestess had been furious, her complexion nearly as red as the colour of the hair that had flown around her shoulders as she'd stormed away. In all good conscience John couldn't blame her. His well intentioned interference had resulted in breaking up her family, and destabilizing not just her tribe, but the uneasy peace with the Semalaens.

Had he done the right thing? He was a military commander, but _was_ it his place to play God? He'd inflicted his moral compass onto another culture, and a pang of remorse twisted his gut as he reluctantly accepted that he probably should've kept his opinions to himself. Yet, Camista was no push over. She might be young, but she was a strong, determined, sassy woman who would have told him where to go if, deep down, she hadn't believed he was right. Still, it was a mess he was duty bound to clean up, and an abject lesson to keep his own nose, and opinions, out of other people's business in future. First, he needed to get out of this damn bed.

ooooOoooo

Like everyone else in the beginning Carson had been impressed by the Ancients. Atlantis was stunning, and he was still in awe of the magnificent city. It contained technology that was nothing short of ground breaking. The Ancient medical scanner had saved many lives, lives that would have been lost if he'd been reliant on conventional Earth equipment. Plus, the database was a constant source of information that had helped him not only to seek out new treatments, but had also assisted him in his research.

However, they had also made mistakes. Huge bloody big ones like the Wraith and the Replicators. They'd hidden them too, and true to form he still hadn't made any inroads into finding the Ancient responsible for the debacle on Raedelous. It hadn't been easy, but the advanced technology at his disposal had gleaned enough DNA from the hair samples to confirm one lock of hair had indeed belonged to an Ancient. The other had belonged to a woman, but not an Ancient, probably the woman mentioned in the book.

Nicky had guided him in the right direction but after several days of hard graft, and sleepless nights it was becoming clear there wasn't any information about the people who'd once lived here. It was strange, but then again typical of the Ancients. They'd left behind so much knowledge but as they were just starting to discover, it was the information they _hadn't_ left that was significant. His eyes were red from too many hours scanning the computer, and his head was pounding. Carson opened his desk drawer but finding it empty of Tylenol, impatiently he ran a hand through his hair, pushed back his chair, and got to his feet.

Just as he reached the door the sight of Sheppard attempting to get out of bed put the dampers on any thought of grabbing a couple of pills and bunking off to his quarters. As he approached he could hear raised voices. Rodney was babbling, trying to reason with John as he shouted at Ronon. The Satedan was saying little, but as he stood in front of his friend creating a barrier with his bulk, his expression was torn between anger and frustration. John's face was flushed, and his eyes flashed as he showed more strength than Carson believed he was capable of in his present condition.

"Tired of my hospitality already, Colonel?"

There was silence as all three men turned to stare at him. It was clear none of them had heard him coming. "Well?"

His patient had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed at first, then the unrepentant mood he knew only too well was back in full force. "No offence, Carson, but yeah, after two weeks stuck in bed the décor starts to lose its appeal."

There was something going on here, something more than his dislike of being stuck in the infirmary, and Carson was determined to get to the bottom of it. He nodded to the two team mates. "Rodney, Ronon, I'd like to have a wee word with the Colonel in private please." Ronon seemed reluctant to move. "It's okay, laddie…_isn't _it, Colonel?" He locked eyes with his patient. "Colonel Sheppard isn't going anywhere until we've had a chat." John glared, but stopped trying to get of bed, even reluctantly allowing him to help him back under the covers.

Rodney was eyeing up the blue jello on the tray that Sheppard had discarded. "If you don't want this…"

Carson put his hand on the tray. "Leave it, Rodney, the colonel may feel hungry later."

"_Sure_…of course. Okay, Sheppard, I'll see you later…back here I hope." He stammered, red faced as he started to shuffle away. "You coming, Ronon?"

Ronon had barely shifted to the side, and continued staring at Sheppard for a full minute more before he moved. "Don't do anything dumb…"

"Go…get out of here, Ronon…No doubt I'll _still_ be in this freaking place when you come back." John's mouth twisted as he muttered under his breath.

Only when the two men had left the ward did Carson pull up a chair, and take the blue jello off the tray. He dug out a small helping and smiled as the sweet dessert ignited his taste buds. "This is good stuff…you really don't know what you're missing." He pointed at Sheppard with his spoon.

A reluctant smile started to grow on John's face. "That was kinda mean, Carson."

"Aye, well, let's just say I was saving Rodney from himself. He's carrying too much weight these days. Anyway...we both know it's not just being stuck here that's annoying you. Why don't you get what's bothering you off your chest."

John sagged against his pillows, and his face clouded over. "I screwed up. When I heard Camista was going to give up her kid…I couldn't take it. But, regardless of how obscene I found the situation it wasn't my place to judge. Now because of me, she's unhappy. She's living a life she doesn't want, and…I've left an entire planet in turmoil."

Carson waited for a moment before answering. "You're a soldier not a diplomat, son, and don't forget you were wounded. Hindsight is a bugger, and maybe you shouldn't have expressed your opinions, but I don't believe Camista came here because of what you said. She loves that child, its obvious for all to see." Carson smiled. "My mum used to say that bearing children was a tender trap. Once you set eyes on them, they captured your heart forever. Look, John, you aren't perfect – none of us are – but even if you did make a mistake, it wasn't you that caused the problem in the first place."

John looked up with his eyebrows raised. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Carson grimaced, and wondered how he was going to tell him. He hadn't made his findings public knowledge yet. "Well…you know how the missions through the library are decided…"

"Yeah, through books that have been vetted plus the planets mentioned must already be on the database." John interrupted, sounding slightly impatient.

"Aye…but what you don't know is the book linked to your mission was," Carson started to feel the color rise up his neck, "a romance novel."

John sat up straight and flinched as he jerked his bad shoulder. "_What_...Seriously? C'mon - you've got to be kidding me!"

"Fraid not, Colonel, but I'll cut to the chase. It turns out that once upon a time the men and women on the planet co-habited like anywhere else…until a team of Ancients came to the planet."

"_Please _tell me they weren't behind the dumb set-up they have now." John muttered, groaning.

In response Carson nodded. "Aye, lad, I'm afraid so. One of them had an affair with a farmer's wife. The men sent the delegation packing, but putting the pieces together from what we already know it would appear the affair didn't just sour the relationship between the couple concerned. That one act tore the whole community apart. Whether or not the men suspected the other women of adultery we'll never know for sure, but they ended up confining them to the house making them little more than slaves. It was some time later…well, you know how that ended up."

"Freaking Ancients…" John slammed his fist onto the bed.

"That isn't all," Carson interrupted before his patient could carry on his rant, sending his blood pressure up, "Nicky found a locket in the library which matched the emblem on the book. The Ancient in question fathered a child. There were two locks of red hair inside. It was sheer luck I managed to get some viable DNA. Anyway, I carried out a comparison with Camista and her child and…they both have the Ancient gene."

"_Crap_…" John drew a shaking hand over his face. When he glanced back, the pilot looked drained. "I need to fix this, Carson – I need to speak to these people."

Carson put a hand on his shoulder. "And you will. But if you go now, you'll only end up right back here. Look, John…if you rest up and do as I tell you I'll release you to your quarters in a couple of days. I'll even authorise you to attend the next meeting…providing you take it easy, and it takes place in Atlantis. Tell you what, I'll have a word with Mr Woolsey today and ask him to set it up."

John brightened. "You'd do that? Thanks!"

Carson sat back on the chair and took another spoonful of the blue jello. "Thanks aren't necessary, son. It might not be you that started this bloody mes, but to my way of thinking you're the very man to sort it out."

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.

And...I want to thank my own lovely mum for the title of this story. For as long as I can remember she has called having children, the tender trap. As she keeps telling me, a mother worries about you from the day you're born, and that isn't something that stops, regardless of how old we become. Even someone as old as me!


	9. Chapter 9

**The Tender Trap**

Chapter 9.

He gave every appearance of being relaxed. His long, lean back melted into the chair. The questions he asked were incisive, his responses intelligent. His hazel eyes were bright, interested, as they focused on the man speaking. Except Richard could tell the brightness was a little too bright. The taut fine lines surrounding them giving only the slightest hint at the pain he was in. They were subtle tells, only visible to those who knew him. To the rest of the people around the conference table, Lt Colonel John Sheppard was on top of his game.

The only sign of his recent injury, the dark sling supporting his healing shoulder, merged in with his black BDUs. Sheppard was barely out of the infirmary, but he didn't want their guests to know that. Richard admired him. If the situation were reversed, he wouldn't have been able to put up this good an act. Doctor Beckett was present in his capacity as a foremost expert on genetics but unbeknownst to their guests, he was also there to keep an eye on his patient. An implicit agreement had been arranged before the meeting started that should the doctor see Sheppard tiring, he would give a signal to bring the meeting to a close.

Until recently Richard would have been unaware of the extent of Sheppard's discomfort. But, living and working in this tight-knit community alongside the man who watched over the safety of its people, he was gradually learning what made his military leader tick. Before he came to Atlantis he'd been warned that Sheppard could be a loose cannon. He didn't doubt it. His record made interesting reading, and from a few of the early reports it was clear even Doctor Weir had locked horns with him on occasion. However time and experience were great mellowers and, up till now he'd seen little evidence of it.

While he didn't doubt the colonel was still passionate about his job, or the certainty he would stand up and argue his corner if he felt something was wrong, Richard got the feeling he had learned other ways to deal with those he disagreed with. Regardless, if Sheppard hadn't ignored orders, he wouldn't be sitting there. When the replicators invaded Atlantis, he hadn't given much for his chances. Ever since the unlikely rescue, he didn't view life in quite the same way. While the rule book was still important, he'd come to realize that it wasn't the be, and end all of life. Bottom line, John Sheppard was a good man. He hated injustice, and had put his own life on the line many times to protect not just the people in Atlantis but anyone who was being oppressed. Richard shared his feelings, if not always agreeing with his methods.

This situation was a case in point. He wasn't a family man, and had never felt the need to perpetuate the Woolsey DNA, however he didn't much care for the practice of discarding a child because it did not fit _requirements._ Nevertheless, in his role of diplomat it was his job to put his personal views aside. It wasn't that unusual a phenomenon. There were cultures on Earth that followed similar selection techniques. This planet was entitled to live the way they wanted, regardless of how distasteful the practice was to him. At least on Raedelous the children were given a loving home, even if that home only contained one of the parents.

There was no question that Sheppard's interference was ill advised, but at the end of the day his judgement was impaired by injury at the time, plus the young lady (who seemed to know her own mind) had requested sanctuary. In any event, there was a lot more to this situation than the simple matter of a woman who wished to keep her child. It turned out that an Ancient had been behind the root of the planet's ills. One man, who unable to control his desires had unwittingly, wreaked havoc on a planet. His actions had caused disastrous, even tragic implications on the people living there. The fallout from which had resulted in the fractured society that existed today.

Carson was discreetly tapping his left forefinger finger on the table. It was a signal he was concerned about his patient, and gauging by the ghostly palor of Sheppard's face he was inclined to agree. He'd also had more than enough. The meeting was already dragging into its third hour, and with no real progress having being made it was time to wrap it up. However, Daalen was engaged in a fiery exchange with his SIC, Kalenn. From experience he was acutely aware if he interrupted now it would not only result in resentment from both men towards these proceedings, but it might also give Kalenn the upper hand. If that happened, it could be disastrous. With the Vergonans still refusing to send a representative, Daalen, especially given his association with Camista, was an essential player if they were to progress these negotiations further. He nodded to Beckett. The medic sat back and rolled his eyes, but seemed to understand. Richard just hoped the dispute ended before Sheppard needed to be carried out on a stretcher.

ooooOoooo

"I don't care who started it…or if some of us do have the blood of the Ancients in our veins - I don't trust the Vergonans, and I _never_ will." Kalenn slammed his fist on the table so hard Ronon's glass fell over, spilling water everywhere. The Satedan glared at him, and growled under his breath as he accepted some paper towels from Teyla to mop his damp pants.

Daalen kept his tone low, but there was no mistaking the man was seriously pissed. "Really? So you refuse to accept that if we carry on as we are our civilisation will become extinct? " He sat back and folded his arms. "I tell you what, Kalenn…why don't we tell the others what we have learned, then put it to the vote?"

"And just what would that achieve, Daalen?" Kalenn stood up and waved his arms while looking around the room. "Without Pellista here, regardless of what we decide, these talks are meaningless!"

"Gentlemen…" There was a trace of irritation in Woolsey's voice as he tried, but was unable to get their attention. To John the continued bickering was beginning to sound like white noise.

He kept his hand steady as he brushed away the beads of sweat gathering at his hairline. He was drained, past exhausted, his stomach churning from the dull throbbing pain radiating from his shoulder. His meds were in his top pocket but he daren't reach for them. The last thing he wanted was to show weakness in front of these guys. Beckett was watching him as if he was going to keel over at any second. He hated to admit it but if the meeting didn't end soon, he just might. Woolsey was trying to smooth things over, but Kalenn was having none of it. It was time for an intervention before things got out of hand, but John wasn't even sure what he was going to say.

"Excuse me…I hate to break up a good argument, but if you guys are serious in resolving this situation, I have a suggestion."

"Is that right?" Kalenn laughed with a sneer. "I don't doubt your ability on the battlefield, Colonel, but I seriously doubt anything you have to say is going to help."

"Kalenn!" Daalen glared at his SIC with such anger, the man visibly paled. "Please excuse his manners, Colonel, and accept my apologies. Despite my comrade's comments, I think that at this juncture, any suggestion is welcome." He nodded to John, inviting him to continue.

"Hey…I understand there's a lot of bad blood from the past and change is never easy, but Camista turned her back on the old ways. If the daughter of the Priestess can leave everything she's ever known and try a different kind of life, how many more people would be willing to do the same?"

The Semalaen leader played with the glass in front of him. "That's a fair point, Colonel. However, if that is the case then why haven't there been other incidents like this? Why haven't people spoken up?" Daalen reasoned.

John squirmed in his seat, trying but unable to ease the pulsating ache running through his body. He forced himself to keep still, and kept his game face on. "Maybe there have been, but as you aren't privy to what goes on in the Vergonan camp it's possible any women who'd wanted to keep their sons realized that with nowhere to go, they had no choice but to go home and toe the line. Camista met me…But hey, this isn't just an issue concerning the women. What about your men? Some of them are the fathers of daughters, children they've never seen. I'm sure a few of them would want to form some sort of relationship if they got the chance."

Now it was Daalen's turn to look uncomfortable. "Forgive me, Colonel, but while all this speculation is very interesting, could you get to the point?"

His mouth was dry and the glass of water in front of him looked inviting, but he couldn't risk taking a sip as his hand was trembling. John met his eyes with a confidence he wasn't feeling. "Okay…how about we create a sanctuary on the planet? A place where people can freely go without repercussion, to either meet with the children they'd given up, or… start relationships."

"You aren't going to consider this nonsense…are you?" Kalenn raised an eyebrow and snorted, giving Daalen a sideways look.

Daalen didn't return it, and held up his hand for the man to be silent. "Creating a third community would only cause further division within the planet, Colonel."

John nodded, blinking rapidly as the world swam. He felt like crap, but hoped he didn't look it as he took a moment before continuing.

"Agreed, but that isn't what I'm proposing. At the moment you already have times when a ceasefire is put in place to…well, you _know_…and the sanctuary would, amongst other things, simply be an extension of that. If folks aren't interested in using the facility, fine, no one would make them. Just like no one would be forced to accept an invitation to meet anyone they didn't want to. Look…all I'm saying is for those who do want to use it, the sanctuary would allow them to remain part of their tribe, but give them the freedom – without penalty – to meet others." A smile tugged at his lips. "I even think it could be the answer to your population problems."

Kalenn glared at John. When he opened his mouth to speak Ronon's expression darkened as he leaned menacingly forward on the desk. The Semalaen took the hint and sat back, instead showing his disgust with a slow shake of the head.

"Tell me, Colonel, what if some wanted to form partnerships…move away to live together away from their tribes?" Daalen asked, sounding sceptical.

John shrugged, and suppressed a wince as a shaft of pain speared through his shoulder. "I didn't say it was a perfect plan, just a starting point to get things moving. Tell you what, why don't you put it to your people and see how they feel about it?"

"Aren't you forgetting about something, Sheppard?" Kalenn muttered, barely hiding his frustration. "What about the Vergonans? Any agreement we reach is worthless without their co-operation."

"That's a very good point, one I will attempt to rectify by extending another invitation to the Vergonans before the next meeting. In the meantime I think we have covered enough ground today." Woolsey pronounced, as his eyes flitted about the room making sure everyone knew he was winding up the proceedings. John noticed he was looking at him with thinly veiled concern, and he appreciated the sentiment, but he wanted to finish what he'd started.

"I'd like to answer that question if I may, Mr Woolsey," John interrupted. He locked eyes with Kalenn. "If Pellista won't come to the party…then we take the party to her."

Daalen scratched his head. "Excuse me, Colonel, what is all this talk about a party? I don't think this situation is anything to celebrate. What is it you're trying to say?"

"What I _mean_ is once you've talked it over with your men, we send over the proposals… and request that the next meeting be held on her turf."

"The last time a man walked into her compound…he was beaten to within an inch of his life." Daalen said quietly. "I am sure you can understand that is not something I wish repeated." His eyes darkened as he grabbed the glass of water lying in front of him, and drained it in one.

There was something in the man's expression that told him there was more to this story than he was letting on. John wanted to pursue the subject further but his mouth went dry, and dark spots started dancing in front of his eyes. The room was spinning, but just as he was about to keel over Ronon discretely grabbed his arm, steadying him. Carson shot Woolsey a warning look.

"That is certainly disturbing, Daalen, and something we will be sure to avoid. However, Colonel Sheppard has made a valid point. The participants of _this _meeting should decide how they wish to proceed in order we can establish a template for further discussions." Mr Woolsey closed his laptop signally the end to the meeting. "Thank you again, gentlemen for agreeing to come here today. Now…can I offer you some refreshment before Major Lorne escorts you back to the planet?"

Daalen rose to his feet immediately followed by Kalenn. The leader shook his head. "Thank you, but no. You have given us a great deal to consider, and I need to gather my thoughts before speaking to my people."

Woolsey smiled. "Of course."

"Colonel Sheppard…thank you for your contribution today – it was most _enlightening_." Daalen gave him a crooked smile, then left. Only then did John sag against the chair and close his eyes.

"Slow, deep breaths, Colonel…that's it."

He could feel the doctor's hand around his wrist, but could barely hear Carson's broag for the blood roaring through his ears. Dimly aware of activity going on around him, awareness started to return when a cold bottle of water was pressed into his palm. He opened his eyes a crack in time to see a wheelchair brought into the room. "I'm _not_ using that."

Ronon snorted. "He's okay."

"That's non negotiable, Colonel. Now take these." Carson's tone brooked no argument as he put two tablets on the table in front of him. "These are a wee bit stronger than the ones in your pocket. You'll feel more comfortable in a few minutes, but they'll also make you drowsy – don't fight it."

He squinted up at the medic, frowning. Carson was oblivious to his bad mood and stood with his arms crossed until the tablets were snatched from the table, and knocked back with a glug of water. The cold liquid tasted good. John was about to finish the bottle when Teyla took it off him.

"Too much might upset your stomach, John."

"And I don't want you barfing all over my new shoes. You ruined my last pair." Rodney shuffled out of the line of fire.

John glowered, and gave him a twisted smile. "Gee…thanks for the concern, McKay."

Rodney had the good grace to look embarrassed. "It's not that I don't care, Sheppard…but these are Italian leather. Have you any idea how much I paid for these? _Duh_…what am I saying? Of course you do. But I'm just a scientist, not a poor little rich boy like you."

"That's enough from the pair of you." Carson raised his voice slightly as shook his head, but his expression changed, and his voice filled with remorse as he addressed his patient. "I'm sorry, Colonel, if I'd thought for one minute this meeting would have dragged on this long, I would never have allowed you to attend. You're still weak, something you need to appreciate before doing anything…and I mean _anything_, during the next couple of weeks. That being said, son, your idea wasn't bad…not bad at all." Carson smiled, and patted his good shoulder. "Now how about we get you onto your feet?"

Even with Ronon's strong arm on one side, and Carson supporting his other, John swayed when he was gently eased out of the chair. Any further protests about accepting his ride died in his throat when he realized he would never make it to his quarters under his own steam. At least he hoped he was going back to his quarters. Regardless, he was hardly in a position to refuse. He was relieved when Carson stopped at his door.

The meds were kicking in, and drifting in a drug-induced fog, John meekly allowed Rodney to take off his boots, while Carson settled him against the pillows and checked his vitals one more time. "Get some sleep, Colonel. I'll be back to check on you later." Carson checked his watch before leaving the room.

"Sleep well, John." Teyla smiled as she pulled up the covers under his chin.

"_Uhm._..what she said." Rodney mumbled, then forgetting he still had John's boots, the scientist made a face as he inadvertently sniffed while putting them under the desk.

Ronon pulled out a chair, stretched out and closed his eyes. "I'll hang around for a bit."

"_Sure_…night, guys" John's incoherent mumble as he drifted off made his friends smile. It was barely eleven-twenty in the morning.

ooooOoooo

TBC

So...will the idea take off? And will Pellista ever set foot in Atlantis? These are all questions that will be answered in the fullness of time!

In the meantime thanks to all those who have reviewed, and please, I'd love to know what you think of the story so far! - Joanie.


	10. Chapter 10

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 10

The tight v-necked waistcoat nipped in her waist and pushed her breasts firmly against the cream leather. Camista was acutely aware, and felt slightly uncomfortable about displaying more cleavage than usual, but as Teyla had lent her the garment she felt it inhospitable to refuse. Besides, it made her feel good. It showed she had almost got her figure back, and in any case the warm creamy shade was the same background colour behind the pretty fall colors on the long straight skirt.

They were borrowed clothes, in her borrowed life. Camista knew she would need to start making decisions about her future one day soon, but she was comfortable living with Teyla, and the kind hearted Athosian wasn't putting any pressure on her to leave. At first she found it hard to understand why Teyla had chosen to live with a man, especially one such as Kanaan.

He was pleasant enough, kindly even, but to her mind he was a poor match for her friend. Teyla was a strong woman, with an even stronger spirit. She could easily have brought up her child alone but for some reason Camista couldn't fathom, she'd chosen to live with the soft-spoken father of her child. If she'd picked John Sheppard as her partner, that was a match she could understand.

But their relationship was strange. While the interaction between John and Teyla was close, it wasn't the same as the one she witnessed between Teyla and Kanaan. Despite the disparity of their dispositions, it was clear they cared for each other on a more intimate level. In turn they also both shared responsibility for the care of their child. That was something Camista envied. She loved her son dearly, but the little boy often cried through most of the night. Tiredness was her constant companion, and there were many times she would have welcomed someone to share the burden.

The buzzer went on the door. With neither of the permanent residents nearby, Camista wasn't sure what she should do.

"Would you get that please, Camista?" Teyla popped her head around the door. Her hair was sopping wet, hanging in long soggy strands sticking to her face. Her blouse and shirt, drenched. "My delightful son decided it was a good idea to soak his mother during bath time. Once I get him into bed…I will have to change."

Despite being in Atlantis for over a month, Camista still felt uneasy at meeting strangers – especially men. Nervously, she rubbed her hands on her skirt then chastised herself. She was a warrior, more than capable of dealing with any male. Surely having a child hadn't made her weak? Without further hesitation, she opened the door to reveal John accompanied by Doctor McKay.

"About time." Rodney grumbled, as he moved past ambling into the room. He was holding the slim box which seemed permanently attached to his arm, and not for the first time she wondered why it was so important. He went over to the brightly patterned couch and slumped into its deep cushions, still mumbling. "It's bad enough I have to babysit _three_ Johns, but I was getting a draft out there." He pressed the radio in his ear. "Radek…I'm dying of pneumonia. Have your guys been messing with the climate controls again?"

"I don't need babysitting – he's the one who wanted to tag along." John bent down and whispered in her ear. "Be nice to him. He's just heard the woman he likes is dating someone else."

Rodney's face twisted as he went scarlet. "I heard that…and it's not true. Doctor Kozlov is just a friend…"

John winked at her. "What happened to _Nicky_? Friends usually call themselves by their first names, Rodney."

"So they do…_Sheppard_…Anyway, someone has to make sure you don't drop the baby. Not that I'll be doing any of the _actual_ holding…I don't know why but kids don't seem to like me. But how you thought you were going to cope with both a baby _and_ a toddler one handed…" Then Rodney lightly slapped his palm against his forehead, and rolled his eyes. "Of course, how could I be so stupid? You're the great John Sheppard. You can do anything!"

John ignored the jibe as he looked around. "Where is my namesake anyway?"

"Which one?" Rodney snarked under his breath.

Camista smiled as she walked over to the darkened corner of the room. "He's here. It took me forever to get him settled down, but hopefully he should sleep for a while now." At the thought of leaving her child, she started to feel anxious. "If he causes you any trouble, please…just send for me and I will come at once. In fact, perhaps I should stay. Rodney is correct. It is not fair to expect you to care for him in your condition."

She watched John's expression soften as he peered into the simple wooden crib that had once held Torren. What she didn't know was it had been John who'd made it as a gift for Teyla.

"I'm perfectly capable, anyway, I have my sidekick here." He nodded towards Rodney who was already engrossed, watching something on the screen. "Relax, Camista, the little guy will be fine…besides, you haven't had much fun since you came here." John bent down to ruffle the small head, but stopped, quickly moving back. "I don't want to wake him, but you know what? I've never seen a baby with bright red hair." He winced as he straightened up. As he went to join his friend on the couch, the scientist propped two cushions on top of one another. "See…" John gave Camista a lopsided grin, "he cares for me after all."

Rodney gave him a sour look. "Yeah, right…I just don't want to be stuck hauling you off the couch when you can't get back up. You're not as light as you look." When John gingerly sat down, the scientist put a slimmer cushion on his lap to support his wounded arm, then handed him a soft, red rubber ball. "Here, Carson suggested you spend this time doing your exercises."

John sighed, then easing his arm out the sling put the small ball in his hand and started squeezing it. Camista watched, puzzled. "This helps build up the strength in my muscles. It's simple but effective…it also hurts." He explained, grimacing slightly.

"You look lovely, Camista." Teyla appeared in the room, her eyes shining with approval. The older woman was dressed in a simple caramel shift dress which clung to her curves. She looked a picture of serenity. So different from the person she's seen just a few minutes ago.

Camista blushed. "Thank you, but are you sure I should come tonight? I feel it is not my place to intrude on your people's celebration…I would be more than happy to stay and look after Torren for you."

"Of course you are coming with me. So far you have only seen my home at its worst. It was raining when we visited last week, and in bad weather nothing looks its best. Tonight you will see how beautiful it is. During the festival of lights, it is especially lovely. To celebrate the coming of the winter solstice, candles are laid out around the perimeter, and the tents are covered with garlands of bright yellow flowers." Teyla faced her and took her hand. "I would like you to get to know my people, Camista…and I know they want to learn more about you." The Athosian turned to her team mates. "John…Rodney, thank you for coming, but where is Ronon? I thought he wanted to see the movie too?"

"He's got a date…didn't say with who." John mumbled, distracted by the opening credits of the film.

Teyla nodded. "Very well. I have left refreshments in the kitchen, and if Torren wakes please do not encourage him to stay up…_John_."

The man in question glanced up, feigning innocence. "Me? I'm _hurt_…Go on, you girls have a good time. The kids will be fine. From what Kanaan told Lorne, the party was already in full swing."

"Why _did_ Kanaan go on ahead?"

"You are not the only guest tonight, Camista. As my representative he went ahead to welcome the others." Teyla explained in an off hand fashion as she picked up her shawl. "Now come, we must hurry. I'm afraid Torren has made us a little late."

"_Teyla_…"

Teyla let out a small sigh. "Yes, Camista, what is it?"

"What is a date?"

ooooOoooo

The young pilot manning the craft blushed when they entered. He didn't say anything, but when Camista glanced into the view finder their eyes briefly met before he quickly turned away.

Teyla tried and failed to suppress a smile. "I think Lieutenant Madison likes you." She said quietly.

"Me…but why?" Camista asked.

"You are a beautiful young woman, Camista," Teyla told her, and searched her face wondering if it was false modesty. All she saw was genuine surprise. "I find it hard to believe no one has ever told you that before? What about your mother? Did she never tell you how pretty you are?"

Camista flushed, shrugging, as she began twisting one of the stray curls that fell around her heart-shaped face. "We never talked of such things. As her next in line certain things were expected of me, but apart from the importance of keeping healthy and strong, our people never talked about how we looked."

Her lack of guile and the wisdom of her words made Teyla guilty for doubting Camista's modesty. In hindsight she supposed living in a female community with no one to impress but your peers, looks would not be a priority. In her experience most women only started to take extra care about their appearance when they had an incentive, the motivation usually being to gain the attention of the opposite sex. Up until Camista had met John, she'd considered all men to be a threat. Now, living in a mixed society it was clear that some education was required if her young friend was to fit in.

Teyla motioned Camista to come with her into the back of the jumper where they could have some privacy. Once completely sure their conversation couldn't be heard, she wondered how she would begin.

"I hope you know that you and the little one are more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish, but you are now living in a community with both men, and women, and…I sense a certain reluctance from you in cultivating relationships." Camista said nothing, but her eyes widened with apprehension before looking away.

"It is only natural that one day you will wish to have a home of your own and, when that time comes, you must be prepared." The young woman was now staring at her, looking confused. Teyla felt very uncomfortable. This was going to be harder than she'd thought. "Let me put it this way. As I said before you are very pretty, and men _like_ pretty girls. In our village if a man wishes to begin courting a woman, he will engage her in conversation. If the woman likes him she will answer, and perhaps offer a smile. After that the man may extend an invitation to go out with him. Now, Camista…that does not mean you have to accept every offer made to you, but…if you _are_ interested in getting to know a man better, then it is perfectly proper to acceptable the invitation."

"Is that the same as a _date_?"

Teyla smiled. "Yes…the Atlantians called it dating."

Camista looked puzzled. "So, if I were to accept such an offer, what is it you do on a date?"

Her heart sank. This conversation was starting to get too deep for the current time and place. She was already feeling guilty about the deception John and Mr Woolsey had talked her into, and was relieved when Lt Madison informed them they were coming in to land. "I am sorry, Camista, but we will need to postpone the rest of this discussion for another time."

When the hatch opened a soft breeze blew into the jumper making her shiver. It was still summer, but the long balmy days were already giving way to the cooler, shorter nights leading to the fall. The pale, blue sunny skies of earlier were gone, and the rosy glow of the fading sunset was deepening. In less than an hour the only light would be from the large camp fire at the heart of the village, and the candles strewn around the perimeter. She loved Atlantis. The beautiful city was her home. This however was her village, her people, and no matter where life took her in the future, this place would always remain a part of her soul.

There was a smile playing on the young woman's lips as she breathed in the sweet, pure air, and took in the abundant wild flowers that defiantly pushed through the hedgerows and trailed along the forest floor. Teyla could guess what she was thinking. It reminded her of home. That was the only reason she agreed to this. If John was right, this plan might eventually enable Camista to return to her planet.

Music and laughter drifted towards them as they entered the village. It was now, or never. She pushed back her unease, trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing.

"Camista, before we go any further…there is something you should know."

The young girl didn't seem to be listening. She was distracted, her attention fixed on something else. "What are they doing here?"

Teyla followed her gaze and looked into the throng of people. Her mouth went dry. Camista had seen the Semalaen delegation before she had been able to explain. She looked furious. Worse, beyond the blazing fury in the bright blue eyes, she saw hurt.

"Why? How could you do such a thing? I trusted you, Teyla, and…you tricked me!"

As Camista pushed past her to storm away, Teyla gripped her arm. She felt guilty for her part of the deception but it was too late for regrets, and she needed to make her listen.

If after her explanation Camista still wanted no part of the plan, then so be it. At least they had tried. She hoped it wouldn't be at the expense of their friendship. Camista had become the younger sister she had always wanted, but never had.

Camista threw off her arm in disgust. "All right, Teyla, _tell_ me. Tell me why I should listen to the woman who has lied to me. Tell me why I should stay and breathe the same air as those…"

Teyla cut her off before Camista said something she would later regret. "I have never lied to you, Camista, I simply did not tell you they would be here. For that I apologize, but judging from your reaction…can you blame me? Look, I know it was not your intention but whether you accept it or not, your decision to keep you son has unearthed an uneasy truth. If the way of life does not change on your planet soon…both tribes will eventually become extinct. Daalen has accepted this to be true, and has already had meetings with John and Mr Woolsey. Your mother however, has so far refused to accept an invitation to participate."

Camista huffed. "That's no surprise. She is committed to our way of life. I doubt she will ever agree to joining a meeting where there are men present." The flush of anger was still on her cheeks, but Camista made no move to walk away. "So, what is this…_plan_?"

"John has suggested there is a sanctuary built on the planet. Somewhere were people from both tribes can meet without fear of retribution. It would be a place mothers could get to know the sons they had been forced to give up. Fathers in turn, would be able to meet their daughters. And…if it succeeds and opens up the minds and hearts of the people in Raedelous, perhaps one day you would be able to go home. Return with your child to the land of your birth."

"Oh…"

Teyla suppressed a smile. She could tell Camista was mulling over this revelation so continued to strike while the iron was hot. "Daalen wanted to see how men and women in other societies interacted. For security reasons Atlantis was not deemed suitable, so John asked if I would approach my people to see how they felt about being observed. As you can see, they are happy to receive all who come in peace and friendship."

Camista was still staring at the group, but the anger had been replaced with curiosity. One of the younger men of the party suddenly noticed they were there. He gazed at Camista for a moment then smiled. Strangely, Camista didn't ignore him as she would have expected. The young woman didn't return his smile, but instead nodded acknowledging his presence before looking away.

"When I decided to keep my son, I never considered any of this. I just followed the feelings in my heart." Camista said wistfully. "What can I do to help?"

Relief washed over her. Now was the time to press the issue further. "I know how uncomfortable this must feel, but I think now is the time to properly meet your father." Camista frowned, and her face clouded over but Teyla continued before she could interrupt. "Think about it, Camista. If you cannot bear to be in the same space as him…what chance is there for this plan to succeed?"

For a moment Teyla was starting to think it was all over when the young woman finally broke her silence. "Fine…Let no one say I do not have the courage to finish what I have started."

As Camista moved purposefully away to join the group, Teyla caught Kanaan smiling at her. The simple gesture gave her hope. They had done their part. Now all they could do was wait and see.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Thanks to all those who reviewed, your support means a lot.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please...I'd love it if you shared your thoughts with me!


	11. Chapter 11

Many thanks for the reviews. Now it's time to start upping the ante a bit - on with the story!

**The Tender Trap**

Chapter 11

There was still a nagging pain deep within his shoulder, but John pushed back his discomfort keeping his face expressionless as Beckett examined the fading wound with his gloved fingers. The Scot was watching, looking for a reaction. John didn't give him one. He wanted back to active duty, and if it meant telling a white lie to achieve his objective, he could live with that.

"I hear you've been out running with Ronon."

It was a rhetorical question, common knowledge in the base but Carson's disinterested tone didn't fool him. "I took fire in my shoulder – _not_ my legs." Caught unawares John hissed when the medic pressed into the healing exit wound on his back. Damn it.

Carson pulled off his gloves and moved back around to face his patient. "Don't try to be smart with me, son. For one, I've been your doctor for quite a while now and I know all your moves. Secondly, I don't ask questions or give examinations for the hell of it – I'm just _trying_ to do my job!"

When the medic fired his used gloves into the trash with such force the container rattled and nearly fell over, John realized he'd over stepped the mark. Carson had saved his sorry ass more times than he cared to remember. He owed him his life. He also owed him respect. The guy didn't deserve his bad attitude or cheap cracks.

"I'm sorry, Carson. I just want to get back to active duty." This time he didn't hold back the slight wince as he pulled on his shirt. "There's all this activity taking place on Raedelous and I feel like a freaking spectator. I want…need to get over there to see how things are going."

Carson had stopped frowning, but he remained silent as he pulled up a chair to sit beside the examination table.

"Look, John, I don't have a problem with you running – provided you don't overdo it. You've made great progress with the physical therapy, but until you have full range of movement in that arm without it causing you pain, I'm sorry, but I cannae grant your request. If I sign you fit for active duty I'm putting you back in harms way, and that would be irresponsible." Carson gave him a wry smile. "Now…while I'm the first to admit you're _off par_, is better than most men's good days, the fact is you could face a situation where that arm would let you down at a critical moment. That's something I'm not prepared to risk."

John knew when he was beat. He let out a long sigh. "So…how long?"

Carson stood up as John slid off the examination table, and onto his feet. "Another week…maybe ten days. I know that's not what you want to hear but don't push it. Overdoing things will only delay the healing time."

"Message received…loud and clear." John responded without sarcasm this time, as he finished fastening the last of his buttons, and pushed the tail of his black duty shirt inside his pants.

"How are things between you and Camista these days?" Carson asked. "Has she forgiven you yet?"

His hair was standing on end. It wasn't regulation at the best of times, but he swept a hand through to try and neaten it a bit. He wished he could mend bridges with his young friend as easily. "Frosty. She's still pissed I didn't give her the heads up about what I was planning."

"But if you had, it's unlikely she would have gone to the mainland." Carson reasoned, as he shook his head slowly.

"You know that, and so do I…Deep down I think she knows it too, but she still refuses to speak to me outside of the conference room. The way she enounces _Colonel_, makes my flesh crawl. On the bright side, at least she's speaking to Teyla again."

The medic patted him on the back. "Try not to worry about it. She likes you. Cares for you even. She wouldn't have named her son after you otherwise. Give it time. At the moment she feels betrayed, even if it was done for the best possible intentions. Once the sanctuary starts taking shape, I'm sure she'll come round."

"That could take a while," John muttered sadly under his breath, "We posted the proposals in the clearing two weeks ago, but Pellista is still playing hard ball. Daalen and Camista have identified a suitable site, and have even started mapping out the foundations, but it could all be for nothing. Without the Vergonans agreement, the plan will be dead in the water."

"Keep the faith, Colonel. Mind, if there is anything I can do to help…apart from putting you back on active duty…let me know." Carson had been walking with him, but stopped at the entrance of the infirmary.

John thanked him, and started down towards his office. He couldn't fault the medic for doing his job but, he was bummed. Instead of the trip he'd planned to take Camista to the planet, he was going to be stuck doing paperwork – again. John didn't regret what he'd done, and if he had to do the same again, he would, but he wanted to make peace with her.

Truth was he missed her. There was nothing like _that_ between them, hell no. She was much too young for starters, and although pretty, Camista wasn't his type. What he missed was the snarky comebacks, and the innocent but uncompromising way she viewed life. She was a straight talker and he liked that. He didn't have a sister, but Camista would have fitted into his dysfunctional family really well. She would sure have given his old man a run for his money.

The smile died on his lips when Woolsey's voice came over the radio. "Could you report to my office, Colonel? It appears we have received a reply from the Vergonans."

Woolsey was a polite guy who always made it sound like it was a request, but they both knew otherwise.

"I'm on my way." He automatically responded, although this was one meeting he wouldn't miss even if he got the chance.

Alarms bells were ringing in his head, but he tried not to be negative. It was a good thing the Vergonans had finally responded, wasn't it? But the question had to be asked - why now? John didn't know why he was feeling so uneasy, after all this was what they'd all wanted. For their plan to succeed, if there was ever to be peace on the planet, if Camista was ever going to be able to return home with her child, both tribes needed to come to some sort of agreement. He curbed the feeling of foreboding twisting his gut, and tried to keep an open mind.

ooooOoooo

Pellista swept into the 'gateroom with all the arrogance and bravado John had expected from his one brief encounter with the Priestess.

If the woman was fazed by the jumper ride, or amazed by the magnificence of her surroundings, there was no outward sign of it. He couldn't help being impressed. If her indifference was an act, then it was an Oscar-winning performance. If not, she really was going to be a tough nut to crack. An ominous sign they were in for an interesting meeting was the twisted smile playing on her lips as she peered up at the balcony where he was standing. He didn't flinch under her gaze, but it was kinda weird looking at a faded image of the young woman standing next to him. Unless time was unkind to the girl by his side, this would be how Camista would look in another twenty-five to thirty years.

Only the fine lines on her brow and around her eyes, and mouth marked her as past her fortieth year, but Pellista still looked hot. The still taut jaw line, defined muscle tone, and killer figure would be envied by many women half her age. The odd, stray grey hair mingled amongst the long, red curls gathered into a top knot perched precariously on top of her head didn't detract from her appeal. She was a good looking woman, and it was pretty clear Daalen thought so too. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since she entered the room. The couple had made a daughter together. Not for the first time John wondered if their union had been as dispassionate as their custom indicated it should be.

Regardless, even though Camista was the image of her mother, her eyes were Daalen's. Over the last few weeks he'd watched them as they'd worked together, and whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not, in many ways Camista _was_ her father's daughter. She possessed his laconic sense of humor, and also shared some of her father's mannerisms. They were both left-handed for one, and the way they cocked their heads to one side when they were listening, had almost made him laugh out loud when they'd done it in unison. It was strange seeing the DNA shared between the three adults, but this wasn't one of Carson's lectures. It was time to put his game face on.

"I don't know why she came. Mother isn't interested in the sanctuary, let alone having lasting peace."

It was the most Camista had said to him in weeks, and he held back a smile. "You could be right, but we don't know that for sure. We have to give her and this plan a chance. As to why she came, I think that's pretty obvious. She came to see you."

Camista reached over and took his hand. "I don't know if I can go through with this, John. Did you see her expression? She's playing with us, waiting for us…_me_…to fail." The young woman looked more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her. More afraid than she'd been in the throes of childbirth. "I feel sick...Mother has always had the power to intimidate me, and I know she will do everything she can to show me up in front of you all as the silly, frightened young woman who ran away from her responsibilities."

John squeezed the hand still in his. "Maybe she did have that power once, but I've never seen it. There was no trace of fear in the girl I met in the forest. Hell, it was _me _who was scared shitless when I first knocked on your door." He smiled softly trying to coax a smile, but it didn't have the desired effect. Camista still looked spooked. "Look, what you did…walking away from the only life you'd ever known, a life you loved, to live amongst strangers…just so you could keep your child - that took courage. You grew up to your responsibilities, Camista, you didn't run away from them. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Do you really believe that?" She asked almost in a whisper.

John rested his hands on her shoulders, and turned her to face him. "Yes, Camista, I do. And for the record I'm not in the habit of saying things I don't mean."

"Thank you, John…Thank you for believing in me, and for coming up with a plan so outrageous it might even work. But, if you _ever_ lie to me again…" The girl's eyes flashed, but the twitch at the corners of her mouth showed there was no real anger there.

"_Technically_ it was an omission, not a lie -" He rubbed his neck, and licked his lips that had suddenly become dry.

Camista threw him a warning look. "Do it again, and I'll take you to the gym and teach you a lesson. Teyla has been showing me some new moves."

"So you think you can take me down, huh?" John scrubbed the stubble on his chin in an attempt to hide the grin from the audience in Woolsey's office. "Tell you what, kid. Once I'm back on active duty you can show me what you've got. Right now, how about we go show your mother that her little girl is all grown up."

Then came the smile he'd been looking for as she crooked her arm through his. "Let's…I have lived in her shadow for long enough."

ooooOoooo

It was a small group gathered around the conference room. Carson had been and gone. His report hadn't gone down well with the Priestess. John could have sworn the temperature had plummeted under her chilly glare. To give him his due, the Scot hadn't baulked under her scrutiny. In his usual no nonsense tone, he'd told her how it was going to be if they carried on as they were, and left. Now only he, Daalen, Camista and Woolsey were left to convince the stony-faced Vergonan to come on side. It wasn't going well.

He'd seen more warmth from a Wraith Queen. The Priestess was clearly taking her title to heart as she sat back, and looked down her nose at them with thinly veiled disdain. John was proud of Camista. Despite her earlier fear she glowed with enthusiasm as she and Daalen took it in turns to outline the proposals for the sanctuary. The father and daughter double act were the only thing to get a reaction from her during the entire meeting. When they started to speak, Pellista raised an eyebrow and a soft flush grew up her neck turning into two scarlet blotches high in her cheeks. He watched as her jaw hardened, but still she said nothing.

Hours passed, and the atmosphere became fraught with tension as her silence continued. To her credit Camista didn't break. Her voice stayed strong, and the only trace of emotion was the glint of anger in the piercing blue eyes. Only when they had finished their presentation did Pellista take a sip of water from the glass in front of her, then slowly rose to her feet.

She allowed her gaze to roam around the room, but it settled on her daughter. "This has been _very_ interesting."

Camista coloured under her gaze, and her mouth formed a thin line. "I hope you will at least consider our proposals, Mother…and allow my sisters to hear them."

The older woman gave out a harsh laugh. "My, my - Colonel Sheppard, what have to done to my little girl? She left Vergonan a child. You have made a woman out of her."

John ignored the implication. It was obvious she was trying to get a rise out of her kid, but he wasn't going to be played. "_Me_…I can't take credit for what was already there. All Camista got from me was the chance to be herself."

Camista threw him a grateful look, but Pellista was livid. Her eyes were flashing with barely suppressed rage. He wondered when the last time someone had spoken to her like that. Then he remembered – it was him.

Woolsey closed his laptop and also got to his feet. "Thank you all for coming. I realise this is a difficult situation, one that I don't expect to be resolved overnight. However…Priestess, I would ask you to consider what has been discussed here today, and, once you have had an opportunity to confer with your tribe I hope we can meet again to discuss the matter further."

The lady in question bowed slightly. "Thank you, Mr Woolsey. This has certainly given me a lot to think about." She turned to daughter. "Camista, I would very much like to meet the child who has caused all this fuss."

Camista, who had been quietly seething, looked up surprised, brightening at the unexpected request. "Of course! With your permission Mr Woolsey, may I take my mother to the living quarters?"

Woolsey went very quiet, and John could see by his guarded expression he was about to refuse.

"If you agree, I'm happy to go with them." John offered. "I'll even escort our visitors off the base once we're done."

"Thank you, Colonel. Now if you will all excuse me I have another meeting to attend."

With Woolsey gone, Daalen sauntered over to stand beside them. "He's a fine looking child, Pellista. Young John has the same shade of hair you had the first time we met." He scanned her face. "Although, I must admit to preferring it the way it looks now. The years have been kind to you."

Pellista gave him a tight smile. "How _kind_…but flattery as you know, Daalen, will get you absolutely nowhere."

In response Daalen just shrugged. "Still the same, eh, Pellista?" He smiled. "Maybe once we get the Sanctuary up and running I can do something to change your opinion about me. In the meantime, Colonel Sheppard, would it be a great inconvenience if I could return now? There is much I need to discuss with my men."

John nodded. He was acutely aware of Pellista watching him as he touched his radio, but figured he was being paranoid. It was only natural their technology would look strange to a simple race like the Vergonans.

Left with the two women, John could feel the tension growing between them. Given her attitude, he had been surprised at Pellista's request. Camista, who had been initially delighted that her mother wanted to acknowledge her grandson, was now becoming wary. He couldn't blame her. The older woman oozed arrogance. Her eyes seemed to bore into everything and everyone as she seemed to glide, her full shirts swishing along the hallway. John wanted to grab some lunch, hit the gym, and finish the last of the staff evaluations. Most of all, he wanted her gone.

Camista had moved into her own quarters after the spat with Teyla. The two girls were good now, but the arrangement had stuck. Given the impromptu visit, he was glad. If she had still been living with Teyla, Pellista would have taken the wrong reason from it. The way things stood now, living on her own as a single mom was another illustration that Camista didn't need anyone to take care of them. Of course mommy _dearest_ didn't make any comment. Her attitude was pissing him off – big time.

Inside the utilitarian quarters, Camista had made a home. There was a multicoloured throw in greens and golds with matching cushions scattered over the bed. A dark wood rocking chair – a gift from the Athosians – stood in the corner. Tubs of cream, powder and other baby regalia were lined up on the desk which she'd made into a makeshift dresser. As they walked further inside the sound of singing drifting from the bathroom was unmistakable. When Teyla came round the door with the baby wriggling in her arms, her eyes lit up when she saw them.

"Camista…he has been such a good boy." She smiled down at the newly bathed baby, before carefully handing him over to his mom. "And you must be…"

"My mother…Mother, this is Teyla." Camista smiled at her friend, as she made the introduction. "Teyla…thank you for taking such good care of him." The young mother then turned the child round to meet his grandma.

Pellista started at her daughter, barely glancing at the child in her arms. John reckoned she was waiting for Camista to give Teyla the rest of her title. From her daughter's expression she would be waiting a _very_ long time. Teyla was picking up on the vibes between them, and raised an eyebrow. John rolled his eyes. When the silence was starting to stretch out again, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"He's a cute little guy, isn't he?" As John bent down to tickle the child's chin, he could see how hurt Camista was.

Pellista seemed to give herself a shake, and without making a move to hold him, scanned the baby up and down. "He looks healthy enough…and his hair marks him as being of royal blood. Then again, with his lineage I wouldn't have expected anything less. Camista, this child is going to be a leader of his tribe one day – the _Semalaen _tribe. The woman I saw today is someone who is worthy of being my successor. When are you going to stop this nonsense and come home? I want you by my side."

Camista held the baby so close, he started to cry. There were tears glistening in her own eyes and John was afraid she was going to cry, but she didn't. Her voice was cool and clipped as she answered.

"For now _this_ is my home. These people have given me more support and love than you have ever done. But when I do return to the planet…and I will, I will make a new home for myself and my child. Whether you like it or not change is coming, Mother, so you'd better start getting used to the idea." Camista's shoulders were rigid at the end of her speech, but she hadn't broken down. The young woman even managed to give him a small smile. "Colonel Sheppard. Would you please show my mother out? I need to attend to my child."

Teyla didn't need to be asked to stay behind. John was glad. Camista would need a friend to comfort her after the fiery exchange.

He didn't even try to make conversation as they walked the remaining distance to the jumper bay. He wanted the bitch out of his base.

If his position didn't demand that protocol be followed, he would have left her with the pilot and walked away. Unfortunately, he didn't have that luxury. John settled on the basics. "I hope you enjoy the flight."

Her harsh laughter took him by surprise. "You are a very strange man, Colonel John Sheppard. My daughter obviously thinks that you can do anything, but this isn't over. We will meet again…of that you can be certain."

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed that, and please review!


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks again to those who reviewed - I really appreciate it!

Pellista wasn't happy when she left Atlantis, so what's happening with the sanctuary?

**The Tender Trap**

Chapter 12

John wasn't surprised when Pellista didn't contact them again. He and Camista had both been right. She wasn't interested in the sanctuary. Her visit had merely been a cheap ploy to try and get her daughter back.

With the Vergonans now definitely out of the picture, it was looking more and more unlikely that the sanctuary would succeed. Undaunted, Camista was pushing on with the project with the same pig-headed determination he'd witnessed in her mother. He could tell Daalen was trying to be supportive, but the guy was up against it. Lorne had briefed him about the unrest in the Semalaen camp.

The way things stood there was a narrow majority who, while not enthusiastic about the plan, were content to stand by Daalen and wait to see how it panned out. However the minority led by Kalenn, had become more vocal since it was now unlikely the Vergonans weren't coming along for the ride. When John arrived at the site he could see straight away that the strain was starting to tell on his new friend. Daalen was supporting a fencepost, while Lalleen dug in the earth around the base. There were only another two other men there. Not a large workforce for a big job like this. When Daalen heard him approach the trade mark lopsided smile was there, but his eyes betrayed the anxiety he was feeling.

It was his first visit to the site and John was impressed with what they had managed to achieve in such a short space of time. Granted, there was still a lot to be done but most of the fencing was in place, and the meeting hall was only missing a roof and windows. There were a few wooden benches in place, and John nodded to Ronon to put down the container of refreshments they'd brought from Atlantis on the nearest one.

Daalen used his arm to wipe the sweat of his brow as he strolled towards them. "So you've finally come to do some work, Colonel?" He said with a wry smile.

John opened the container and handed him a cold one. Daalen took it gratefully. "Sure, why not. I used to help the handyman back home when I was growing up, so I'm pretty useful with a hammer."

"A _handyman_?" Daalen started spluttering, but stopped short of choking. He shook his head. "You have some very strange expressions, Colonel."

John started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "If I'm going to get my hands dirty, I think you should start calling me John."

"Very well…John. We still have some floorboards to be laid in the hall. And the gazebos haven't been started yet."

"Say no more," he interrupted. "Just show me where the hammer and nails are, and I'm good to go."

"I'm gonna give Lalleen a hand." Ronon mumbled, before sauntering off to join the man in question.

John shucked off his shirt and hung it over some timber leaning against the hut. Daalen handed him a hammer and watched as he examined it for weight and balance. "This'll do." John smiled, and kept his voice upbeat as he tried to get to the bottom of the situation. "Couldn't help but notice you don't have many volunteers."

"No," he sighed, "after the Vergonans backed out, we lost a lot of support." Daalen gave a humourless laugh. "It sounds strange, but it was better before. When Pellista refused to attend the meetings, there was a determination to try and make this work ourselves in the hope some of the women felt the same way. But…when she agreed to come the atmosphere changed. The only way I can describe it is that she gave us hope, only to snatch it away and trample it into the ground."

"So what next?" John asked quietly.

"We finish what we've started. It's only wood and nails and if it never gets used it will be a pity, but at least we've tried." Daalen looked more sad than pissed. "If this doesn't work there's more than the future of my tribe at stake. I wanted to give my girl a home, John. If the sanctuary doesn't work, Camista may never find acceptance here. If that happens, I've lost my daughter and grandchild."

John patted him on the back. "You'll always be welcome to visit them in Atlantis, besides, this isn't over yet. In fact if I'm not mistaken I thought someone was watching us as we arrived."

Both men casually glanced towards the edge of the clearing. A bush was moving despite there being no wind, and it being a cloudless, sunny day.

"We get an audience every day." Daalen told him. "Pellista would be furious with them if she found out, but curiosity is part of human nature. Speaking of women, I thought Camista might have come with you?"

John nodded. "She wanted to, but the little guy caught a cold. She didn't want to leave him with a sitter while he's got a temperature."

"Getting to know my daughter has been the best thing about this. I was so proud of her when she stood up to Pellista. She quite a woman." Daalen said with a smile.

"You'll get no argument from me…Now, where are the nails?"

ooooOoooo

He was hot, tired, and his muscles ached from the unaccustomed manual labour, but John had enjoyed himself. There was something cathartic about working with your hands. It was soothing, focused the mind, and seeing the completed task laid out in front of you was very satisfying. From his unobstructed view within the roofless building, he could see that dusk was approaching. A quick look at his watch told him he was soon due to check in. It was time to call it a day.

His back was throbbing as he dragged on his shirt but it was a good sore, nothing that a hot shower and a sound night's sleep wouldn't fix. It felt good to be back on active duty again. He loved Atlantis, she was his home, but he'd been going stir crazy stuck on the base for so long.

"Colonel…John, if you aren't in a rush to get back, I'd like to invite you and Ronon to eat with us."

The prospect of an evening chilling with his friends followed by an early night, vanished. Daalen's invitation would give him a chance to see how things really were with the Semalaens, so John swallowed his disappointment and put his game face on. He looked at Ronon who was standing just behind the Semalaen leader. "How about it big guy? Have you anything you need to get back for?"

"Nope…"

"Then thanks, Daalen, you have two extra guests for dinner. I just have to check in with Atlantis first." John gingerly walked out on the floor boards he'd just laid, with a real sense of satisfaction they supported his weight.

The other men were also packing to leave. Only Lalleen was still working. "I would like to finish this fence, Master Daalen. I won't be long. Twenty minutes at the most."

"Be sure you aren't any longer, Lalleen. This isn't a safe place to be alone after dark." Daaleen warned, sounding concerned as he looked up at the setting sun.

"Kid's got it bad." Ronon muttered under his breath as he watched Lalleen laying the groundwork for another fence post.

"Ronon's right." Daalen said when they were out of the young man's earshot. "For him this is a labour of love…but my daughter is not making it easy for him. She barely acknowledges his existence."

"No, I guess she wouldn't." John shrugged, feeling sorry for the guy. "He should hang in there though. Anything worth having is worth the effort."

The small group parted ways when John and Ronon left to find the jumper. John had barely signed off and cloaked the Ancient craft, when he heard gunfire.

Ronon's face darkened as he nodded to where they'd left the Semalaens. "It's coming from over there."

"Someone's after Daalen…" Ronon growled as he charged up his blaster.

John threw him a warning look. "Set it to stun, buddy…We don't want to cause any more trouble than we have to."

The adrenaline pumping through his veins soon swept away his aches as they quickly retraced their steps, but there was no sign of the men he'd been working alongside earlier in the day. It was getting dark, and with the descending gloom shrouding the way ahead, he was barely able to see. John cursed himself for having left his night goggles behind in the jumper.

"Sheppard!" Ronon's yell made him dive out the way just as he felt the heat of the bullet as it tore through the sleeve of his shirt. He hit the sun-baked earth with a thud, and waited for the pain to hit, but apart from a fresh set of bruises for once he'd got lucky. The only damage was a tear in the material. Ronon kept up a steady stream of fire while stealing anxious glances in his direction. John quickly caught his breath, and signalled to his buddy he was okay. The Satedan nodded, but kept up the assault allowing him to scramble to his feet.

In open ground with only trees for cover, it wasn't an ideal place to mount a defence, let alone find his friend, but their options were becoming more limited with every passing second. He could smell burning. Plumes of smoke were wafting past, gathering under the tree-line like thick grey smog. It didn't take a genius to figure out the sanctuary was on fire. The question was who had torched it? But the more pressing concern was who the hell was firing on them? Whoever it was hadn't given a thought to the implications of setting a freaking fire in a forest. John knew if they didn't take these morons down soon, it wouldn't be just theirs and Daalen's lives in danger. Once the fire took hold both the Semalaens, and Vergonan communities would be under threat.

John saw what he thought was the barrel of a gun. He sent a silent message to Ronon then laid down cover from his P90 as his friend ran into the forest. Within moments he heard a yelp, and then there was silence. There was little time to worry about who'd got hurt, so he kept low and continued firing single rounds until his team mate finished the manoeuvre.

A rustle from the heavy undergrowth followed by a hale and healthy Ronon, made him smile. "Look who I found…" He pulled out a squirming Kalenn by the neck of his tunic.

Daalen's SIC was bleeding from a hole in his arm, but despite being hurt wasn't showing any signs of repentance. "_Damn_ you, Sheppard, one of my bullets was meant for you." The man's face twisted as he sneered, his warped smile getting wider as his eyes flitted towards the forest. "But it doesn't matter – Daalen's dead. And that dumb sanctuary will soon be razed to the ground."

"No he isn't…but you killed two of your brothers. For that you will be brought to justice."

Daalen staggered, stumbling to meet them. Blood was steaming from a large gouge on his forehead, but he was very much alive. The guy was blinking, listing to the side, so John came towards him. "I think you need to sit down." He suggested, but Daalen pulled back as he attempted to take his arm.

"No…I need to get to the sanctuary - Lalleen is still in there."

His heart sank. There had been enough death today. He liked Lalleen, and he didn't want the earnest young man to end up as another name on a headstone. "I'll go, but you guys need to get back to the settlement for help. If we don't get that fire under control, the whole forest is going to go up in flames."

Ronon was using a zip tie to secure Kalenn, but he stopped and stared. "No way…I don't like this."

"I don't have a choice, Ronon, Daalen looks like he's going pass out at any second. Regardless of what he thinks, he needs help to get Kalenn back to camp." He whispered out the corner of his mouth. When Ronon opened his, John didn't give him a chance to object. "Don't force me to make it an order…"

"_Fine_…just don't wind up dead."

Ronon's words were ringing in his ears as he ran all the way back to the sanctuary. It was only a few klicks away from his last position, but as the smoke got thicker the closer he got, his lungs started to burn long before he reached his target.

He was coughing, choking on the rancid fumes from the black clouds billowing from what was left of Camista's dream. His eyes were stinging, and there was a foul taste in his dry mouth, but he had nothing to drink. He'd finished the last of his water hours ago, and the well they'd been planning was still only a small hole in the ground.

Sparks flew from the walls of flame that leaped into the night sky, and were consuming everything in sight. He blinked, and tried to shield his face from heat. It was hard to believe that anyone could still be alive inside, but he had to try.

"Lalleen!" His chest constricted and he struggled to catch his breath when the red-hot air burned his lungs. John fell to his knees gasping, tears forced from his red-rimmed eyes as he tried not to think about Ronon's parting comment.

If Lalleen had replied he didn't know. He couldn't hear through the deafening roar as the flames reduced everything to ash. If there was any chance to find him alive, John knew he needed to move, and move quickly. He rummaged in his pocket and thanked the lucky stars his environmental conscience make him use cotton handkerchiefs. Quickly wrapping the white cloth around his nose and mouth, he was about to run into the blazing compound when a movement over in the bushes grabbed his attention. They'd had an audience for most of the day, and it looked like they'd stayed to watch the grand finale.

He was desperate, out of ideas. He knew the risk he was taking, but it was no worse than what he had planned. Before he could change his mind he stormed over and pulled back the scrub. There were two young girls hiding behind the bushes. He reckoned they couldn't be any older than eight or nine. Their eyes went wide as alarmed, they stepped back. He could tell they were petrified and figured they'd probably never seen a guy this close before, but he didn't have time to reassure them – there were bigger concerns.

"Tell _Pall_…the Priestess what's happened. Tell her if she doesn't want her home burned to the ground…we're going to need some help."

Stunned, the kids glared at him for a second, then ran. He'd played his trump card. He only hoped the girls weren't too freaked out to pass over the message.

He rolled down his sleeves, but his dark BDUs didn't afford much protection. The searing heat was oppressive, and his skin was so hot it felt like it was melting. He didn't risk shouting again but despite scanning every inch, Lalleen was nowhere in sight. The last time he'd seen him, the young Semalaen was out in the open. There was no reason for him to be in the meeting hut, but it was the only place he hadn't looked. The building hadn't yet been raised to the ground, but flames were climbing up the outside wall, and licking through the empty window sills. John didn't waste another second. He ran inside.

A wall of flame forced him back, scorching his cheek and making him stumble. John wanted to save a life, but even he knew when the odds were stacked against him. Just as he was about to leave – he saw him. Lalleen was barely five feet away. He was close, damned close, but with the fire blocking his way and the flames spreading towards the only exit, getting them both out in time was going to be problematic. It didn't matter. He couldn't leave the kid behind.

"You need a hand?"

Relief washed over him at hearing the familiar voice. He grinned at Ronon from under his makeshift mask. "What kept you?"

The Satedan called to someone outside. "Over here!" Two men appeared with pails and threw water over the flames. The fire was too entrenched to go out, but it tore a hole big enough in the blazing wall for the Atlantians to grab Lalleen and get him out. His legs were trembling, and his breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as he struggled to pull in enough air. John focused on putting one foot in front of the other until they were far enough away from the danger zone to lay down the wounded man. If Ronon noticed him all but collapse onto his knees, he didn't say a word. John pulled off his now blacked handkerchief, and threw it away in disgust. He pulled in a shuddering breath. "How is he?"

"Alive…thanks to you." Ronon arranged Lalleen in the recovery position. As he turned his head to the side he noticed a bump the size of a small egg. "Reckon he's going to have a headache when he comes too."

John locked eyes with his buddy. "Thanks, Ronon. I owe you one. How did you get back here so soon anyway?"

"One of the men overheard Kalenn planning his assault, but the bastard saw him when he tried to sneak away and attacked him. When the guy came too he was locked in a storeroom. Lucky for us he has a hard head, resourceful too. He managed to get away and alert the others. They arrived soon after you left. Here take this."

Ronon handed him a canteen. The water wasn't cold, but it hit the spot. As he gripped the container tighter in his hands he hissed. A quick examination revealed why. His hands were burned. Blisters covered the backs of both hands, and the skin on his palms was blotchy and tender. The Satedan took the canteen off him and trickled the water over the burns. It hurt like hell. John bit his lip, and tried not to pull away.

"Beckett needs to have a look at those."

"Yeah…just when I'm finally back on active duty." John looked at his hands in dismay. He'd be out of action for a couple of weeks, maybe more. Crap. He gave himself a shake. He'd saved a life, and managed to get out alive. That would do for now.

As he became more alert he noticed the human chain of men passing along an assortment of containers. The Semalaen compound was too far away to get water from there, so he reckoned they must be getting it from a nearby stream. But the fire was still raging, lines of flames like angry fairy lights spreading along the ground, setting the bushes alight and running up the trees. They were trying to avert a disaster, but it looked hopeless, until…

He blinked, at first not trusting the scene unfolding in front of him. First one woman arrived, then another. Soon there was a similar line stretching from the Vergonan side of the forest. Not a word was spoken, only the occasional glance was exchanged as they worked if not side by side, still together, to fight the common foe threatening to destroy their homes.

Lalleen stirred, his eyes widening as he witnessed the unlikely sight. John smiled. He only wished Camista were there to see it.

ooooOoooo

Four men died that night. It was four too many but given the possible outcome, John reckoned things could have been a lot worse.

The biggest casualty was the forest. Where once lush greenery flourished, now there dried husks of burned out trees, and ugly patches of black, smouldering earth. Both were tragedies that could have been prevented. Both caused by man. Specifically a man who was so afraid of change he had killed, and in turn had been prepared to die for his cause. Fortunately the fire had been doused before it reached either community. The sanctuary however, was gone. John didn't relish telling Camista, but it was time to go home.

Dawn was breaking as they made their way back to the jumper. He was hungry, bone-tired and his burns were throbbing. Right now even a night in the infirmary sounded good.

"Damn bugs!" Ronon swatted his neck.

John cringed at the word. He _hated_ bugs. He was hoping he was going to avoid getting bitten when a sharp pain bit into his arm. When he touched it his hand came away not just covered in blood, but with the tail of a dart spilling feathers onto his fingers.

The world was spinning like a demented kaleidoscope, as he watched Ronon stare at him in alarm before falling to the ground. He tried to reach him, but his rubber legs folded until he too lay sprawled, helpless on the forest floor. Darkness was crowding in as he heard footsteps and a familiar voice waving on the edge of his consciousness.

"I told you we'd meet again. I think it's time for our little chat, Colonel. Don't you?"

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review...it would make my day!


	13. Chapter 13

**The Tender Trap.**

Chapter 13.

There was a slight breeze blowing under the cabana, and he shivered slightly. Rodney didn't usually like draughts, but in this heat it was a welcome relief. He hadn't expected to enjoy the massage either. Normally, he wasn't comfortable with people invading his personal space, but his back was playing up, and the pretty receptionist had convinced him to try the spa. He'd been reticent at first but the girl knew what she was doing. Her firm but gentle hands seemed to melt into his skin as they eased away the tension, and worked out the knots deep within his shoulders. When she finally finished he felt like a new man but as he turned to thank her, Rodney was surprised to see Nicky smiling at him. Then right before his eyes her dark-hair started to turn blond as the petite librarian morphed into Jennifer Keller…

"Rodney, have you been here all night? _Rodney_!"

The image shattered into a million pieces, and when his eyes shot open, Radek was staring at him. "Wha?" His stool listed to the side as he stirred. It was only the speedy intervention from the Czech that prevented him falling onto the floor.

Radek slowly shook his head and sighed. "You've been sleeping on your keyboard."

"What?" Rodney realized he was sounding like a broken record, and gave himself a shake. "So, I did some extra work last night…its called _dedication_, Radek. Besides, if everyone did their job right in the first place, I wouldn't have to. Anyway…Sheppard cancelled our chess match."

"I see…and as you had no one else to _play_ with, you decided to work yourself into the ground." Radek's sarcasm was tempered with concern as he stared at him through his spectacles. "You cannot keep doing this, Rodney. It is very bad for your health."

Rodney drew a hand through his hair, and dismissed his colleague's comments with a shrug. "I'm fine…Oh, while I was giving the city my usual one hundred percent, I found a way to improve the communications systems." He squirmed on his seat, ignoring the kinks in his back, as he put up the schematics on his computer. "I've already integrated the improvements into the left tower, but I need Sheppard to get up there and check out the signal. Is he back yet?"

Radek shook his head. The Czech opened his mouth to speak, but Rodney rambled on. "What am I thinking - of course he isn't…" He rolled his eyes, and muttered under his breath. "It would be too much to ask for him to actually be here when I need him. _Okay_, I suppose Lorne can handle it."

As Rodney went to touch his radio, it wasn't there. Radek picked it off the workbench but just as he was about to hand it over, he pulled it back at the last moment. "I will contact the major. You look dreadful. When did you last have something to eat?"

His face twisted as he gave him a sour look, but Radek was unimpressed. "You need to get something to eat before you collapse. For a brilliant man you can sometimes be…what do you Americans say - dumb? You have hypoglycaemia…remember?!"

His stomach was rumbling and the more he thought about it, the detail of his last meal was vague. He hated to admit defeat but Radek was right – for once. He cringed knowing he was never going to hear the end of it. "I'm _Canadian_…but I get your over emphasized point. Fine…you call Lorne. You might as well do something useful while I get something to eat."

"And get some sleep. You are exhausted. It is not possible to do your best work when you are this tired." Radek persisted.

Rodney slid of the stool, and glared at the Czech through narrowed eyes. "For your information it's when I'm tired and under pressure I do my best work, _but_…as Sheppard isn't around demanding the impossible. I might risk leaving the lab in your _capable_ hands to take a nap."

Radek mumbled something in his native language under his breath as he walked away, disgusted. Rodney watched his colleague about to start work and felt bad. He'd been a moron. After him, the Czech was the most brilliant scientist in the base. Plus, his friend had just been looking out for him.

"_So_…I'll see you later then?" He said sheepishly from the doorway.

"Sure..."

"And, Radek…thanks."

It was only just past six in the morning, but the mess hall was full. People smiled at him on the way to join the line, and he nodded in response, but wondered how anyone could be that upbeat so early.

He really didn't want much but Radek was right, there was his health to consider. The bacon looked okay and the scrambled eggs while not as fluffy as he liked, seemed passable. At the last minute he pushed in a portion of grits beside them. There was one blueberry muffin left and despite Sheppard's _best_ efforts to put him off, he couldn't resist his favorite so he quickly snatched it, and balanced it precariously on top of his toast and raspberry jam. He wasn't normally that fond of strawberries, but Carson was always going on about the benefits of fresh fruit. Still, they looked tasteless on their own so he poured a matching yogurt over the top before heading for the drinks station. Coffee dribbled down the side as his mug teetered on the edge. This really wasn't on. He was going to have a word to Martha about the size of the trays. They were far too small.

With Sheppard and Ronon still off world and Teyla on the mainland, there was no one at their usual table. Until he'd joined the expedition he'd eaten alone for most of his life, but nowadays it didn't hold the same appeal. Just as he had resigned himself to his own company Carson caught his eye and signalled him over.

"Morning, Rodney…been pulling an all-nighter?"

Rodney frowned as he dumped his tray on the table. "Radek's been tattle-tailing – hasn't he?"

Carson swallowed what he'd been chewing, and drew him a look. "No, son…you've been sleeping on your keyboard. I can see the outline of the letters on your face."

"What? O_h, no_…Please tell me you're kidding..."

The Scot held up a metallic spoon. It didn't act as much of a mirror, but Rodney saw enough to want a big, wide hole to open up in front of him.

"I'm going get that Czech when I see him. How could he let me leave without telling me? I…I've been walking around the city like this!" Then he remembered the Czech's opening comment, and he closed his eyes and groaned. "Crap…come to think of it, he did try to tell me…I didn't pick up on it."

Carson grinned. "Don't worry about it, son. Only the N, and M are visible now. By the time you leave the impressions will have disappeared…probably."

"Gee..._thanks_." Rodney drawled as he dug his fork into the eggs. As he started to chew, his eyes opened wide at the sight of Carson's full plate. It smelled out of this world. "What's that?"

"It's called breakfast, Rodney." Carson snarked, as he loaded his fork and popped it into his mouth with a smile.

Rodney made a face. "Very funny…You know what I mean. There was nothing like that at the buffet."

Carson cut into a slim, pale triangle covered with brown bits. He topped it with a bit from a square thing that looked like a sausage, and…was that haggis?

"It's a full Scottish breakfast. Agnes from hydroponics was over visiting her mum in Glasgow. When she heard how much I missed a traditional fry up, she offered to bring the fixings back. The kind wee lassie didn't even want the money for it. " Carson elaborated.

Rodney peered at the plate. The bacon, eggs and blood pudding he recognised. The other stuff was a mystery. "So…what's there?"

"Ayrshire bacon, black pudding, haggis, square sausage – because I prefer it over links, fried eggs - sunny side up, and a tattie scone." The Scot made a show of putting the fork into his mouth, and slowly devoured the bite with obvious relish.

"_Erm_, it looks nice. Maybe I could try a piece of that…Ow!" He recoiled as Carson slapped his hand away. "What did you that for? That hurt! Some doctor you are..."

Carson pulled his plate closer towards his chest. "Fingers spread germs you dirty bugger. Besides, it's my last bit of haggis. In any case, if you knew what it was made of you wouldn't want it anyway." He mumbled under his breath. "By the way, when is Colonel Sheppard due back?"

His hand didn't really hurt, but his feelings did. He barely raised his eyes when he answered. "Don't know…later today I expect. Daalen invited them to dinner, but as they were falling behind with the sanctuary, he told me they would probably stay and help out a bit longer."

"Aye, I'd heard work had slowed to a snail's pace. It's a damn shame. I wish these people would wake up to what's ahead of them if they don't do something. The sanctuary is a good idea, and maybe their last chance to turn the tide. "As Carson got to his feet he pushed over the remains of his plate. "Here…you can have this if you want it. All you had to do was ask _nicely_, Rodney." He whispered as he went past.

The Scot was gone before he could think what to say. Rodney glanced around and not seeing anyone watching him, took a bite out of the remains of the round brownish blob on the plate. It was delicious, so why did Carson think he wouldn't like it? For a horrible moment he wondered what it was made of. Surely nothing that tasted this good could be made of anything disgusting, could it?

He thought of Sheppard and Ronon on the settlement. John said they were working, but he'd heard that one before. Rodney guessed they'd probably been wined and dined. In fact they were probably sleeping off a hangover from the night before. It wasn't fair. They got all the best missions. He never got invited anywhere.

ooooOoooo

His head was pounding, but it was the sharp bite of the ropes digging into his flesh that told him he was in trouble. The ragged surface of the ground beneath his side was hard and unforgiving. John figured it to be rock. It sure felt cold enough to be a cave, but the burlap sack over his head blocked out the light. He didn't have a damn clue where he was, but unfortunately he did know who'd orchestrated their abduction. Pellista. His stomach churned as he remembered the disembodied voice as he'd passed out. More important, another memory filtered into his muzzy brain. Where was Ronon?

"Ronon…you there, buddy?"

When there was no answer he started struggling against his bonds, but all he did was tighten the rope. He couldn't move. His hands were numb, his feet too. But his back felt like it was breaking. His arms throbbing and his shoulders aching under the strain of being tied like an animal prepared for slaughter. His wrists had been tied so close to his ankles he thought he was going to snap in half. He was barely awake, but already the un-natural position was becoming unbearable. It begged the question. How long had he'd been out?

His heart was racing, worry about his friend chasing away the last of the drug-educed cobwebs. He'd watched Ronon go down. So where was he? Pellista's problem was with him. It made no sense to drag the big guy into it. Man, he hoped they'd left him behind.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him tense up, but they walked on by. In the distance he heard a scuffle, followed by a muffled grunt then silence. Ronon? John didn't like the idea his buddy was being held captive, but it beat being dead. He didn't have long to digest the information as a few minutes later they'd returned, and they weren't buying his unconsciousness routine for a second. An explosion of pain seared through his gut as a sharp boot tore a hole his groin. His eyes watered and he couldn't suppress a groan.

"Get up! The Priestess wants to see you."

Hog-tied, he was tempted to ask how he was going to manage that. Then reckoned it wouldn't be a smart move to upset the impatient bitch that'd kicked him. Besides, he was still struggling to breathe through the pain.

A blade made short work of slicing through the rope around his ankles, but his wrists were still bound tight. He hissed as circulation once again flooded into his legs and his numb arm. Pins and needles like spikes of electricity setting his nerves alight as they ran up and down the length of his limbs.

He was hauled to his bare feet and flinched, biting back a cry as something sharp dug into his soles. The sack remained. As the pain receded and he was gradually able to feel the hard, dry earth scrape against his toes, John knew he was back out in the open. It was a given he was in the Vergonan camp, but as he'd never been there before he wondered how far away it was from the jumper.

"Sit."

Firm hands pushed him onto his knees. He barely had time to steady himself when the bag was roughly pulled off his head.

Pellista frowned, and her nose crinkled as she raked him up and down. "I should have had them wash you first. You're filthy. I dislike uncleanliness, Colonel Sheppard."

John blinked as the glare of the sunlight dazzled him. As his eyes gradually grew accustomed to the light he was able to see he was on a mound of earth kneeling beside a substantial, almost palatial chair in which Pellista was sitting. Around them was a large circle comprising of over fifty women from the very young, to the very old. He spotted the two girls from the night before. They went scarlet, and avoided his gaze. The oldest group comprised a bunch of ladies that could've been any age from sixty to ninety years. They all looked spry. From teen to middle age the Vergonans were some of the best looking women he'd ever seen. He might not agree with their way of life but it seemed the simply lifestyle had a lot going for it.

"_Sorry_…I didn't realize this was a dinner invitation. If you untie me, I'll go wash up."

Pellista snapped her fingers. One of the women who'd dragged him from his prison nodded and went away. The sour-faced blonde soon returned with a bowl of water and a cloth. The priestess soaked the cotton material and started wiping the soot and grime from his face. He felt like he was back in kindergarten. It freaked him out more than being restrained.

When she finished, she sat back and regarded him dispassionately. "There – that's better. And for your information it's the first meal of the day, not dinner. Now what would you like? I can recommend the meat. It's aurania. They're ugly vicious beasts, but their meat is delicious. The girls hunt them, then cure the carcass with spices we blend ourselves. You must try it." With a small knife she cut off a sliver, speared it, and placed it beside his lips.

"What I'd like is to help myself…"

Her jaw stiffened, as her mouth formed a thin, tight line. "I didn't consider you to be a stupid man. Please don't make me revise that opinion."

"Where's Ronon? If he's dead, lady, I'm telling you now there isn't a rock big enough you can hide behind."

Unfazed at his outburst Pellista simply looked at him. "You are not in a position to make demands, and until you behave I am not prepared to answer anything."

She patiently held the proffered bite in place, until he reluctantly opened his mouth to accept it. "Much better…Your concern is touching, Colonel, but unnecessary, your friend is quite well. I'm sure you understand why I couldn't leave him to raise the alarm, and you have my word that no harm will come to him… provided of course you co-operate. However, just in case you are harbouring any thoughts of escape and bravely staging his rescue, you should be aware... If you are seen within five feet of his position, his guards have been given orders to put a bullet in his brain."

He was hungry, but the succulent meat nearly choked him. "What the hell do you want, Pellista? If it's Camista, she isn't coming back…unless you accept her child as part of the package. Look…you're a smart woman, let us go now and I'll let this slide. If you insist on keeping us captive you're letting yourself in for a world of trouble."

Pellista smiled. "I am aware your people will come looking for you, but not before I have what I want."

"Which is?" John asked, putting on his game face while pushing back the fear from tightening his throat.

The priestess fondly looked out on the women who sat in the circle in front of him. "I want you to see what Camista has given up. I want you to get a taste of the life that was nearly destroyed last night by the actions _you_ started the day you took her away. Most of all, I want you to pay for poisoning my daughter against me. She wasn't just my only daughter, Colonel, Camista was the next in line. When I die, without her to take my place, the royal blood line will be broken forever."

Her eyes were glittering with anger, but he didn't give a shit. He'd been burned, drugged and beaten over the last twenty-four hours. He was pretty pissed too.

"You don't give her enough credit, Pellista. She wants to be here, but not without her son. And for the record, I didn't _make_ her go with me. Sure…I gave her the option, but Camista's a big girl and she made that decision all on her own. Last night…shouldn't have happened, but get real, lady. I'm not to blame for everything, and I sure as hell can't be held accountable for a nut job who felt threatened by a few wooden huts." He glared at her. "If you want to make me pay - knock yourself out. I'm hardly in a position to stop you. But let my friend go. He doesn't deserve this."

Completely ignoring him Pellista rose to her feet and clapped her hands. The reaction was instant, and the response from the assemble group like a well oiled machine. While the younger girls started gathering away the bowls, the older women ushered the toddlers away to the largest thatched cottage at the end of the row. It was only minutes before order was restored and a group of twelve women remained in front of them. They were on their knees, with their heads bowed.

They varied from mid-teens to late twenties and John didn't have to be told they were the warriors of the tribe. Despite the differing ages, looks and hair color they all shared one thing. They looked fit. Their toned lithe bodies reminded him of Teyla, Camista…and her mother.

She saw him looking at the women and Pellista's smile got wider. "Good morning, my chosen ones, today we have an unexpected treat. As Colonel Sheppard is our guest, I have decided this would be the perfect opportunity for you to practice your skills with someone who has been trained in the art of combat. You don't mind…do you, Colonel?"

Even as she spoke two pairs of hands were helping him to his feet. "I have a choice?"

Pellista pulled a wicked looking blade from her belt held it in front of his face, grinned, then swiftly freed his hands. "Of course you do…if you want to ensure Ronon's continued good health."

He pushed down the rage building up in his gut, and started rubbing his abraded wrists wishing he could put his hands around her throat. John could see the women were staring at him, raking their eyes up and down his body, searching for signs of weakness. They didn't have far to look. His burned hands were throbbing, stiff and swollen, every muscle in his body aching from being restrained over night. If she wanted him to spar, he would. He didn't have a choice.

Another clap from their Priestess sent them scurrying into position, while one of the women lined up a row of weapons over at the side. John recognised the two long wooden poles as similar to the bantos sticks he was accustomed to, but his blood ran cold when he spotted the sharp spikes sticking out at either end. There were also a selection of knives, a short tailed whip with what looked liked stone or shell embedded in the cords, and a chain link weapon with a metal ball on the end. This was going to be fun…

ooooOoooo

TBC.

Well, now we know what Pellista has planned, it looks like this isn't going to be one of John's better days!

Thanks so much for all the reviews, and to those who are still following the story. And please, I love to get feed back so please share your thoughts with me!

(If anyone wants to know what Carson was eating, a tattie scone is made with potatoes, and square sausage is something that's on the wish list of many Scots living away from home. As for the haggis. Trust me. You really _don't_ want to know!)


	14. Chapter 14

**Update 24th October:- I just got some disturbing news from one of my regular readers. Apparently she hasn't received a reply from me to reviews she's sent since the 7th chapter. I am very annoyed about this, as I always reply to every review sent. I've contacted FF support, but in the meantime please accept my apologies and my thanks for still continuing to send reviews - Joanie.**

**The Tender Trap**

Chapter 14

"What do you think, girls? Should Colonel Sheppard remove his shirt?"

She wasn't smiling but the gleam in her eyes told him Pellista was having a tough time holding in the laughter, as the group of women flushed red and giggled like a bunch of prepubescent school girls.

"I think you have your answer, Colonel…take it off."

He didn't consider himself the shy retiring type, but John disliked being on display. Titters accompanied every button that his swollen fingers struggled to undo, as twelve sets of eyes followed his actions with way more interest than he was comfortable with.

Pellista sauntered over to stand in front of him. "Here, let me help you with that." A loud rip followed, and the remaining buttons flew in all directions as she tore apart what remained of his shirt. "Better?"

John glanced down with dismay at the ruined garment, and gave her a twisted smile. "_Thanks_." As a shirt it was pretty much useless now, but he reckoned it could still lend some protection later. Much to the bewilderment of his audience instead of throwing it away, he tied the sleeves around his waist.

"Silence!" All chatter immediately stopped, and the women dropped to one knee when Pellista clapped her hands. "For Colonel Sheppard's benefit I will outline the rules. There is no time limit on each bout, but it will end the moment your opponent has been disarmed. You are free to use whatever weapon you wish, but only one may be used during each match. On this occasion I will permit blood letting, however no one and I repeat _no one, _must inflict an injury on our visitor serious enough to lead to his death. If he dies…_you_ die."

_Because that's your job,_ he thought to himself.

"Who gets to go first, My Lady?" One of the older women in the group asked. As she spoke he could see the other warriors tense up and cast furtive glances at one another. It was clear it wasn't just a case of who got to have a piece of him first. They were competing for her _Ladyship's_ favor.

Pellista went silent as she appeared to consider the matter. "Draw lots." She answered curtly, and the brunette seemed to deflate in front of him. If Pellista noticed, she wasn't letting on.

As the girls starting pulling pebbles from a bag, John went towards the row of weapons. He sparred with Teyla and while she frequently kicked his ass, it was simply two good friends having a friendly match. This was different. As a rule he didn't like fighting women but if he was going to survive, he needed to defend himself. He wondered which one of the cruel looking implements could be used without doing any serious damage to his opponents when he heard a familiar click.

He turned to see Pellista pointing his own handgun at him. "Don't touch, Colonel – these weapons are not for you."

Anger boiled in his gut. "So…what was with the pretty speech?" He spat out. "If you really don't want me dead, how the hell am I supposed to defend myself against this little arsenal – huh?"

Pellista didn't answer straight away, instead nodded to one of the women. The warrior went off into a nearby hut to return moments later with a slim rod. It was barely two and a half feet long, and only the thickness of a broom handle. No match to what he'd be up against. The woman had the good grace to look embarrassed, unable to meet his eyes as she handed it to him.

"There you are." Pellista gave him a tight smile. "A strong military man like you shouldn't need anything more. After all, the sisters haven't had the advantage of your extensive training."

It was a crock of shit, but there was no point in arguing. Even if he was on top form, and he wasn't, John knew he wouldn't be able to mount any kind of reasonable defence against these vicious weapons. It was already getting warm, and there would be a steady steam of fresh opponents while he would still be on his feet getting hotter, tireder and at best, badly bruised after every fight. He wasn't going to get out of this unscathed, but he wasn't going to go down easy either.

"Are you ready to begin, Colonel?" Pellista asked, as his first opponent, a girl of barely sixteen, appeared in front of him with a long, pointed blade gripped in her hand.

It was a rhetorical question that John didn't grace with an answer. He took a deep breath, delved deep into his psyche, and using the skills she'd just mocked him with, quickly disarmed the young woman before pinning her to the ground. Pellista looked furious.

He faked a nonchalance he wasn't feeling, and gave a lopsided smile to the remaining opponents. "Okay…which of you ladies is next?"

ooooOoooo

There were female voices wavering in and out of his consciousness. They didn't belong to Teyla, Camista, Banks or even Keller, but they were sort of familiar. As sensations started to return, so did his memory. He and Sheppard had been on their way back to the jumper when they'd been attacked. There was a vague recollection of having been awake before, and hearing a muffled voice calling to him. Ronon had been about to respond when a sharp pain bit into his arm and the darkness had reclaimed him. His dry mouth and fuzzy, aching brain gave credence he'd been drugged. So not a dream, but where the hell was he? Where was Sheppard? Enraged he started to thrash about, but couldn't move. Ignoring the man with the hammer in his head he began shouting into the burlap sack.

"_Quiet_ – we're trying to listen!" The angry face of a blond-haired woman came into view as the sack was snatched away. As his eyes adjusted to the light he could see she was holding his blaster. It was set to kill.

His feet were bound in front on him, and his hands were firmly secured behind the pole he was leaning against. The dark rocky interior told him he was being held in a cave, but the draft blowing around his bare feet hinted that the entrance must be nearby. Frantically he looked around. "Where's Sheppard? If you've killed him…"

"Relax…Colonel Sheppard is alive. In fact if I wasn't stuck guarding you I would've been able to watch him fight. He's quite good…for a man."

Her sour expression deepened when another woman shouted down the corridor. "I hear cheering. Someone must have drawn first blood!"

A chill ran down his spine and he started growling, struggling against his bonds.

The woman started tutting and slowly shook her head. "Shame…it's a pity you had to get all worked up." She brought up his blaster and started to examine it. "I _was_ going to ask you how to get the best out of this, but as you can't behave_, _its time for another nap."

"No!" He tried to lunge forward, but he was going nowhere. He saw stars as his head banged against the pole.

"Sleep well, handsome." She took a long, slim pipe between her rosy-red lips and blew. He flinched as the dart dug into his thigh. Her twisted smile was the last thing he saw before he blacked out.

ooooOoooo

It was official. Seven was no longer his lucky number.

Opponents two through six hadn't been pushovers. They'd certainly given him a run for his money. His body was now a road map of scrapes, shallow cuts and livid bruises, but he'd used his simple weapon to good effect and had managed to deflect most of the blows without sustaining any serious damage – until now.

Number seven looked like an angel, but there was a mean glint in her baby-blues as his latest opponent picked up the short-tailed whip and started swirling it above her head like a demented cheer leader. This was the weapon he'd been dreading.

Basic training had taught him how to quickly, and efficiently deal with a knife attack. Hours in the gym being tutored by Teyla had trained him to use, if not totally master the finer techniques in the use of the bantos stick. Up till now he'd used the same moves with his simple weapon to successfully block the long staff and mercifully, avoid being stuck by the business end. A whip was a totally different ball game. It was a fluid weapon, the long strands difficult to predict as they splayed out on contact. You didn't know exactly when they were going to hit, or where. The short pole in his hand was a poor defence against it.

John didn't know how long he'd been on his feet, but it felt like hours. Every muscle in his battered body was aching. His head was pounding, his skin burning under the baking sun. Sweat was streaming down his face, running into his eyes, but he couldn't risk moving his hand off his weapon. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.

The blisters on his hands had burst long ago. Now sequeous fluid mixed with dried blood stuck to his weapon. He wanted home, good drugs and a soft warm bed to curl up on, but knew rescue wasn't coming anytime soon. They weren't expected back in Atlantis for hours so John pushed back the pain, and focused on the job in hand.

Blondie wasn't as tall as the others, but what the kid lacked in height she made up for in speed and agility. He timed his movements. When he heard the distinctive wooshing sound just before the crack as the leather bands hit, he jumped out of harm's way at the last moment. They circled each other and the dance went on for some time when tired, he tripped on a stone. He managed to stay on his feet but his timing was off and he zigged when he should have zagged, only realizing his mistake when the whip wound round his upper left arm, and spun him round. He yelped, barely managing to keep his footing, as the small pieces of sharp stone embedded in the leather cords bit into his skin.

It hurt like hell, and blood trickled from the stinging wounds, but he didn't have time to assess the damage. The poisoned dwarf was grinning, basking in the cheers of the growing audience as she yanked it back, tearing off slivers of his skin in the process. He staggered, stifling the cry that wanted to escape. Except there was no where to run. Escape wasn't an option, not while Ronon's life was on the line.

When she started circling again, John locked eyes with her. In this type of situation it was often not about the type of weapon being used against you, but instead more to do with the mind set of the person using it. This girl was focused alright, but she was also too eager to impress. It made her impatient, and when she next struck he dived out the way just in time.

Dust flew from the parched earth as the leather struck the ground next to where he'd fallen, but as he scrambled to his feet his weary legs betrayed him. He slipped, and this time she didn't miss as enraged she threw her arm back, wrenching a moan from his throat as the hard leather straps ripped a row of jagged bloody lines around his side. His body was screaming as he rolled away trying to escape the relentless torrent of abuse. Exhausted, he wasn't fast enough. The assault seemed to go on forever as the sadistic bitch kept on hitting him, raining lash after vicious lash again and again, upon his back, chest and legs. Rivulets of blood ran from his torn flesh and as the ground grew red around him, John wondered how much longer he could carry on.

He blocked out the chants, blocked out the pain. Blocked out everything but what he needed to do to stay alive. The strands of the whip had mangled into one thick band. His plan was a long shot but right now, it was the only one he had. John gritted his teeth when he saw the strap coming, grunted as it gouged out a long ragged furrow in his chest. The agonizing pain threatened to take his breath away, but adrenaline born of desperation gave him the strength to grab the whip as it pulled away, and he yanked the owner off her feet. Blood was pouring from his hand as it ripped into his fingers, but he bit back the pain as he threw the brutal weapon out of sight. Wide-eyed the shocked girl quickly shuffled away, and the sound of the crowd died down until the hushed whispers became silent.

A slow hand clap grabbed his attention, and he saw Pellista staring at him. "Well played, Colonel. As a reward you may take a few minutes to take some refreshment and attend to your wounds before the next match."

He held back the retort that sprang to his lips, and tried not to stagger over to the spot indicated to him. Maybe it was a pointless act of defiance, but he didn't want these bitches to see how much he was really hurting.

There was an earthenware jug filled with water, and some sliced fruit. It looked okay, but his stomach was churning and he couldn't face it. The water was another matter. Hell knew how long he'd been out in the sun, or how much blood he'd spilled, so he took as much as he dared to replace the lost fluids, before pouring the rest over his torn flesh. It stung like crazy, and he clenched his jaw to suppress the groan threatening to escape. The skin on his right hand was in tatters. John hoped Carson could put it back together again when he got home, but with no medic around he stood on the sleeves of his shirt and pulled them apart. One sleeve he used to bind his arm, but it hardly made a dent on the seeping wound. The other he wound round his burnt right hand. Clumsily, he folded over the remains of the shirt and bound it over the raw, ripped flesh on his left palm as tightly as he could bear. The makeshift bandage wasn't ideal but at least he would be able to bear the pole in his hand.

Far too soon break time was over. With a clap of her hands, and a pointed glare in his direction Pellista made it clear it was time for his next match. In the meantime the mood had changed. He could feel it. They were wary of him now. It gave him renewed strength to see their uncertainty as they stole uneasy glances in his direction.

It pumped up his adrenaline but undermined by blood loss and injury, John knew it wouldn't last long. If he was going to last the distance he needed to dispatch his last five opponents in short order before his strength gave out.

Having just watched her friend thrown to the ground, number eight's moment of indecision was all he needed. Her guarded attack made her clumsy. He blocked her blow, and using his own pole quickly knocked the staff out of her hands.

Girl number nine was either spooked or hadn't been paying attention. When she came at him with a long jagged blade, he divested her of her weapon and her pride in one practised manoeuvre.

Number ten looked nervous, or she appeared to. This time it was his mistake. He underestimated her turn of speed, and his lack of. His weakened legs were unable to get him out the way in time to avoid the razor sharp blade of the staff slicing into his thigh. It hurt like crazy, but wasn't deep enough to render the leg useless. The wake-up call sharpened his senses. He used his weapon to flick the staff out of her hand and end the bout before glancing at the damage. In the grand scheme of things it was small change. It merely merged into the big ache already shrouding his body.

When an auburn beauty gracefully strolled into the small arena, John knew she wouldn't be so easy to beat. She reminded him of Teyla. Her long, straight shoulder length hair and delicate features not the only things they had in common. She possessed an air of serenity, a quality lacking in all of the others he'd met so far, and her well honed body denoted she worked out – a lot. This woman wasn't afraid of him. He was going to have a battle on his hands.

Like most of the women she too used the staff, but to far greater effect. His arms shook at the force of fending off her fierce, but controlled blows. When she smacked his ripped hand he hissed. She smiled as she then used the painful distraction to strike his chest so hard he folded over in agony, and fell to the ground. The white hot pain spearing through his chest was a sure sign of a cracked, maybe broken rib, but as the pole was still in his left hand the fight was still in play. He needed to end this and soon. It wasn't Queensbury rules, but with the odds stacked against him, this wasn't a fair fight to begin with. John blocked another blow to his chest then spun round and hit her behind the knees. She fell like a stone. He knocked away her weapon before she could catch her breath.

Surprisingly she gave him a genuine smile when he offered his left hand to help her to her feet. "Thank you, Colonel. Well fought, I must remember that move." She said slightly breathless, as she brushed the dust off her short leather skirt.

"My, my…how time flies, we are at the last match already, Colonel Sheppard. When we first met, I wondered what my daughter saw in you, but I have to admit you have surprised me. I didn't expect you to last the distance." Pellista's comments rankled, but John was too busy pulling in small, shallow breaths to give her the answer the snarky remark deserved.

As the last woman went to pick up the staff, Pellista shook her head. "I'm sure Colonel Sheppard must be bored with that. Choose something else…What about the malik."

He was done. The last of his reserves long gone, as he watched with dismay the diminutive dirty-blond pick up the handle of the linked, chain weapon with the metallic ball attached. It looked heavy. A fact confirmed by the way she began to carefully swing it from side to side until she managed to control its balance.

John held up his wooden pole as if it was going to be a match for the heavy weapon. It wasn't. Once she got into her rhythm and the ball rose into the air, the first blow broke his pole in half. John jumped back, but not far enough. Her second swing shattered the remaining piece of wood, leaving only a stump of splintered kindling in his hand. He was in trouble, out of options. His heart racing as he dived for cover that wasn't there. The crushing blow caught him unaware's, the resounding crack audible, and stunned he tried to work out what had happened when excruciating pain shot up his arm and he crumpling in an agonized ball of misery on the dried earth. For a moment he couldn't breathe, the scream dying in his throat as unwanted tears rolled down his face as he rocked, cradling the broken limb against his chest, struggling not to pass out. Only Pellista's smug voice broke through the red mist.

"You did well, Colonel, but you were never going to be a match for my warriors."

Stubbornness had always been his downfall, but John couldn't help himself as he kept his shattered limb arm steady while forcing himself onto his good side to glare at the woman standing over him. "S…some victory. Tw…twelve against one. Yeah…you should all be really _proud_." He ground out, not trying to hide his anger as he scanning the faces watching him.

Pellista went scarlet. "Hold your tongue…or I might forget my promise that no harm will come to your friend."

His pained, huffed laughter caused her to stop and stare at him. "Pray tell me. You are badly injured, and I have your friend captive. What it is you find so…amusing."

"_You._" He closed his eyes, and swallowed before he spoke again in a weak voice. "Ca…Camista respects the hell out of you…Wonder what she'd think of the woman who set me up in an unfair fight and went back on her word."

He covered his face as the pointed leather boot came towards him, but it stopped short at the last moment. Instead of kicking him Pellista rolled him onto his back and pressed down heavily on his ripped chest. The pain spiked and he bit his lip to hold back a groan.

"You will pay for that remark, and for all the wrongs you have brought upon my people. Take him away. Get him out of my sight."

Nauseous, the pressure on his chest made his stomach heave. Unable to help himself John puked yesterday's lunch all over her polished leather boots. All he heard was a high pitched shriek before pain exploded in his skull and the world went black…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Thanks again for the continued support for the story, and I hope you enjoyed the whump!

And please review, as I love to get your feedback!


	15. Chapter 15

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 15

"Okay…could you explain to me in words of less than one syllable _why_ we're sitting around when we should be rescuing Sheppard and Ronon? Maybe it's just me, but I don't get it. We should be over there tearing the place apart!" Rodney's sarcasm was focused on the bespectacled man behind the desk, but his glare took in both Woolsey and Lorne as his sharp tone went up an octave higher.

Lorne's expression spoke volumes, but the major stayed tight lipped as Woolsey started to speak.

"Because, Doctor McKay, we don't know for sure if Colonel Sheppard is being held against his will. And…forgive me for stating the obvious, but until we locate Ronon's transmitter we can't rescue the man until we know _where_ he is."

Rodney rolled his eyes as he leaned forward, putting his hands on Woolsey's desk.

"_Hello_…We know for a fact Sheppard's in Vergonan territory. His transmitter signal was located slap back in the Amazonian home world. C'mon…it's no secret how Pellista feels about him, so I don't think it's likely she's invited him for coffee. Do you?"

Woolsey was staring at him, and it didn't take his genius to figure out what he was thinking. It wasn't his intention to piss him off but he wanted, _needed_ to make sure the bureaucrat understood.

"Look. Ronon never leaves Sheppard's side on a mission, and he's not with Daalen. Therefore, unless he's developed superpowers since he left Atlantis, there's no way he could've left the planet. Ronon doesn't have the Ancient gene so he can't use the jumper. Same goes with the library."

"Excuse me, Mr Woolsey, but I have to agree with Doctor McKay." Lorne followed on. "Pellista didn't exactly leave here on the best terms with the colonel. From the impression I got I think she holds him responsible for Camista's decision to leave. She's certainly not interested in the sanctuary...I'm worried she's holding him against his will."

Richard Woolsey sat back in his chair, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The man looked weary. "You're right…both of you. But if we go in uninvited, the Vergonans would most likely take that as an act of war. Given the fact we're the reason for the current situation there, I'd like to avoid that if at all possible."

"I'll go. This is my fault. It's me my mother really wants."

Everyone turned to see Camista standing in the doorway. She was cradling her child against her shoulder, rubbing his back in a nervous fashion.

Teyla went over and put her arm around her slim shoulders. "That is a generous and very brave offer…it is also unwise. If you go return to your tribe Pellista would punish, perhaps even kill you. In any case, I am doubtful she would let John go. It is clear she holds him responsible for your decision to keep your son."

Camista went scarlet, and her voice shook with barely suppressed anger. "_John_…Colonel Sheppard gave me a choice, but it was _my_ decision to come to Atlantis." Camista frowned, and she stamped her feet, sending her ringlets bobbing around her shoulders. "Oh...this is so like my mother. She has always been the same. She insists on treating me like a child. Nothing I say or do can convince her I am a woman now, capable of making my own decisions. Mr Woolsey," she beseeched. "If I don't return home my mother _will_ kill him."

Richard Woolsey gave her a sad smile. "I don't pretend to know Colonel Sheppard as well as the rest of you, but there is one thing I do know, Camista. He wouldn't want you to put your life in danger for him…or leave your son behind." When Camista opened her mouth to object he put his hand up. "But…I have an idea. Major Lorne," He looked over at Sheppard's XO, "do you think Daalen would be willing to talk to Pellista? From what I've observed they seem to have some kind of relationship."

Lorne looked thoughtful as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm pretty sure he would be willing. He's very grateful to the colonel and Ronon for saving his life."

"Very good. That's how we will proceed then. If he can make contact and find out what's happening, at the very least Pellista will be aware we know Colonel Sheppard is being held there." Woolsey reasoned, then gave them the look that signalled the end of the meeting. Rodney had other ideas.

"Hands up if there's anyone here who _doesn't_ think Pellista knows exactly what she's doing?" Rodney quipped as he slowly shook his head.

It was a no brainer. No one vocalised an answer, but as he expected none of the group present raised a single digit. Everyone went silent, as they exchanged worried looks and the tension in the room became palpable.

Woolsey ignored him, instead nodding to Lorne. "Major, I want you to approach Daalen and ask him to instigate a meeting as agreed. However, take a squad of marines with you. If Daalen doesn't get anywhere prepare your men to carry out an extraction…"

ooooOoooo

A hand touched his face and John instinctively reached out and grabbed it. He let out a strangled yelp as a fierce, sickening pain spiked through his broken limb forcing him back, groaning, against the ground.

As the agonizing pain gradually notched down to a dull brutal throb, and he was able to get a handle on it, he wondered how long he'd been out. The sun-baked earth beneath him was as hard and unforgiving as the first time he'd fallen, but the sun was in his eyes blinding him. The only thing he could make out was the fuzzy shape of the woman beside him. She was the only person he could see.

His head was pounding, his throbbing skull making him sick and dizzy. John wanted to lie there, pretend that none of the last crappy twenty-four hours had ever happened, but even that dumb thought was aggravating his raging headache. He blinked. Even that hurt. Nevertheless he needed to know what was going on so prised his eyes a little wider. It didn't make any difference. He still couldn't make out her face for the glare shrouding everything in a shimmering halo. When she moved, inadvertently blocking the barrier between them, he was able to see her for the first time. She was no longer young, but he couldn't recall her as one of the group of elderly ladies who'd sat at the circle. Then again trying to remember anything was making his head ache.

He jerked as a damp cloth was pressed against his head, swearing under his breath. He bit down, but his attempt to stop any further noise filled his mouth with blood as his teeth caught a cut inside the soft fleshy part of his cheek. John couldn't remember when that had happened. Then again he'd been beaten so badly his body was one big ache. He couldn't stop a groan as the cloth moved onto his chest. The raw, ragged edges where his skin had been ripped apart didn't take kindly to being touched.

John was trembling, tears stinging his eyes. Part of him knew she was only trying to help, but her well meant ministrations were killing him. It felt like the whip was slicing his skin all over again.

"Stop…_please_ stop."

"I'm afraid I can't, young man. These cuts will get infected if I don't clean them."

She was right, he knew it. He needed to man up for the continued torture. "Fine…sure…Do what you have to do."

A gnarled, calloused hand lifted his head slightly to offer him water, and the world spun. His stomach started to heave. "I'm going to…"

Despite the abrupt message the woman got the gist, and gently turned his head to the side. Unlike Pellista, she didn't seem to care when he puked all over her thread-worn skirt. He was already in agony, but the prolonged retching added to his misery. His sides were aching but long after he'd spilled the remaining contents, the dry heaves seemed to go on forever. When he was done she laid him back, rung out the cloth and gently wiped his face.

"Sorry bout that." He croaked, shocked at how weak he sounded. Then again, it shouldn't have been a surprise. He hurt all over. There wasn't one single piece of his frigging body that didn't throb, or ache, and those were the relatively minor injuries.

"It is I who should apologize, Colonel…for my people. The way you have been treated is disgraceful. Pellista is a demanding leader, but she has always been fair and never cruel – up till now."

Strands of steel-grey hair had fallen from her top knot. They were clinging to her sweat-streaked face, but she either hadn't noticed, or didn't care. Her piercing blue eyes grew darker, as the wrinkled face became thoughtful. "Since Camista left she has become withdrawn, bitter. The loss of her daughter is eating her up inside, and she blames you. Pellista refuses to acknowledge that her daughter is just like she was at that age. They are both determined women - full of fire, full of passion. It does not help your situation that Camista's departure has made everyone unsettled."

She went quiet for a moment. When she continued, she sounded sad. "There are those in the tribe who have never been comfortable about giving up their children, but fear has kept them silent. I believe if the sanctuary had opened, a few would have risked the consequences to walk through those gates."

She gently brushed the hair off his face. "You are a good man, Colonel Sheppard…your mother must be proud. It was a wonderful thing you tried to do. The sanctuary would have given us hope for the future, and I for one am truly sorry it has been destroyed. Sadly, some things are not meant to be." The old lady let out a long sigh before once again becoming businesslike. "Now…we must try to get you sitting up. I am afraid your arm is too badly broken for me to heal, but I can at least clean the lacerations."

"Who are you?" He asked, puzzled. If he really was public enemy number one as she'd said, then she was taking a huge risk helping him.

"I am nothing…_no one_. My people disowned me many years ago. They only tolerate my presence because I am good with the children, and my skills as a healer are useful to them."

Getting upright proved easier said than done. It was gut-wrenching painful. Sweat broke out slicking his body, the beads streaming down his face as he clenched his jaw to stop the scream escaping.

Her face was wavering, becoming blurred. John knew he needed something to focus on other than the agonizing pain radiating from his broken limb or he'd pass out. "Why? Why did they disown you?" He grunted in a cracked voice.

"I had a son. Like Camista I too wanted to keep him but I was not fortunate to meet someone like you." The old lady gave him a sad smile. "I kept him with me and hid in the forest. For nearly three wonderful months I got to know my son…then the winter came. It broke my heart to give him up, but deep down I'd always known that was the way it would end. Without a proper roof over our heads, my beautiful boy would not have survived the harsh winters we have here. At the end, I left him in a stable at the Semalaen settlement with the name I had given him pinned onto his blanket. When I returned home, I was whipped for my transgression. I believe the only reason I wasn't put to death was because the old healer had died while I'd been gone, and there was a sickness ravaging the settlement. The condition of my _forgiveness_ was I lived outside the compound, and did not have any unnecessary interaction with the other women. That is how it has been ever since."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, Colonel." She said simply, with no trace of anger in her voice. "I do not regret the choice I made, and I have my memories."

They both went quiet. The lengthening silence only broken by the grunts of pain he couldn't hold in as she cleaned some of the deeper wounds.

He was shaking by the time she was finished, chilled to the bone even though the sun was shining. Once again the bile crept into his throat and he wanted to weep, dreading the thought of putting his aching body through another round of vomiting. John reckoned she was either a mind reader, that, or he'd lost all remaining color when she handed him a small, flat brown pebble.

"Here…put this in your mouth and suck." When he raised an eyebrow, she sighed with impatience. "It has come from a stream rich with many of the minerals I use in my potions. It will help with the sickness. I regret I cannot offer you anything for the pain…my actions are being watched."

He was sceptical, but put it in his mouth anyway. It tasted of nothing, but within minutes while his stomach was still churning from the concussion, he was reasonably confident he wasn't going to throw up again – not just yet anyway.

When the old lady started to remove his belt, his eyes went wide.

"It is a bad break, too bad for me to set. If you lived here it is likely I would have to remove your arm…but I believe your own healers may have the means to repair it. Until you return home all I can do is alleviate your discomfort. I am going to use the belt in order to stabilise your arm. Provided you don't move around too much, this should make you a little more comfortable."

His mind was racing, and he fought back the panic rising in his gut. John didn't doubt her assessment. Although the bone hadn't pierced the skin, from the odd shape of his arm it looked like it was broken in at least two places. He was pretty sure Carson wouldn't need to remove it, but if he didn't get full mobility back that would be a career breaker.

As he was a strong gene carrier they might keep him around, but would Stargate Command, never mind the IOA want a lame military commander? More worrying was the fact he would lose his wings. Flying was in his blood. It was the reason he'd signed up in the first place. Not being able to feel the thrum of the jumper as it came to life under his touch, or soar into the air in a F02 – hell, any craft - was something he didn't want to contemplate.

He helped her remove the belt because…well just _because_. But tried to focus on something, anything, other than what she was about to do as she went to take his wrist.

"This is going to hurt. Prepare yourself." She locked eyes with him. John nodded in response. He sucked in a deep breath, and bowed his head in preparation for the painful assault. She worked quickly, but the slick, insidious pain as she manoeuvred the limb built up to a physical shock that had him gasping for breath as his vision greyed out.

He wasn't aware of having listed to the side, surprised to find one of his opponents, the one who'd thanked him, help the old lady position him against a wall. He hissed, moaning softly, as his shredded back protested being in contact with the rough surface of the coarse, brick building. In too much misery to put up more than token resistance as another woman fitted a metal collar around his neck, and clamped thick bands of metal attached by a short chain around his ankles. He was woozy, too beat to move, but dared a glance at the chain attached to his collar. It was less than six inches. He was in agony, too much pain to sleep but if he had the notion, he'd been doing it sitting up.

The old lady looked at the restraints in distaste as she struggled to get up, a cloud of dust falling from her skirt as she finally managed to clamber to her feet. "I'll try and come by later…if I can. In the meantime try and get some rest, Colonel."

In misery, it was an unlikely prospect but there was no point in whining, especially to the one person there who'd showed him any kindness. "Yeah…and thank you. You're the only one here worth a damn."

It wasn't until she started to walk away he remembered her story. It was only a small thing, but he'd met a few men in the Semalaen camp. There was a good chance he might know her son. He called after her. "What was the name of your son? I might have met him."

Her wrinkled face became almost pretty as her eyes lit up and she gave him a beaming smile. "His name is Daalen."

ooooOoooo

TBC.

**Was that a surprise? I hope so! I like to throw in a few curve balls now and then!**

**I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, _especially_ as I found out today that not everyone has received my replies. I have reported the situation to FF, but I'm annoyed about it. The way I see it, if people are kind enough to take the time to review, I'm delighted to reply. Don't get me wrong, I know some folks feel shy about reviewing and that's fine. I just hate to think people thought I'd been ignoring them!**

**Okay, rant over! And as always please kept sending me your feedback. I'll do my best to make sure you get a reply. Thanks - Joanie.**


	16. Chapter 16

**The Tender Trap**

Chapter 16

There was a lump in his throat as Daalen watched Camista pick through the charred remains. The sanctuary had been her dream. Her hope of one day being able to return to the home she loved with her son. Now it lay in tatters amongst the black ash and charred wood.

In the beginning he had seen it as a stepping stone. A risky enterprise he'd been willing to try in order to move forward. To encourage people to change their perceptions, in order to avoid extinction of both their communities. The man who'd caused the wanton destruction had been put to death that morning. His sentence had been determined by his brothers, but it still weighed heavily upon him. Kalenn had once been a friend. It was still hard to believe that the man who he'd grown up with had killed two men in the attempt to take his life. Regardless, there was nothing that would make up for the damage Kalenn had caused.

Daalen mourned the loss of his men. The smouldering timber, regardless of what it represented, was not worth the loss of vital young lives. He also mourned the future he'd hoped to share with his daughter. Pellista had borne him three fine sons all of whom he loved dearly, but from the moment he'd learned of her birth, he'd longed to meet his daughter.

Camista was so like her mother, but without Pellista's fiery temper and intolerance. Both women were brave, fearless and totally committed to doing what they felt was right, but he was proud to say his daughter was more open minded. He'd seen her angry, but the fire that lit up those beautiful blue eyes never stayed bright for too long. Pellista on the other hand, nursed her wrath.

He didn't flatter himself that Pellista liked him. Daalen was well aware the only reason she'd joined with him in the first place was because of the color of his hair. After becoming head of his tribe, the extra kudos ensured he remained her donor of choice.

Camista was their third child. After her birth he'd thought the little girl would be their last. Then came word Pellista, now ruler of her tribe, would be willing to join with him again. When another boy was left in the clearing he knew how desperate she would be. No leader liked to be left with only one heir, and with her advancing years the little boy turned out to be their last child.

Daalen understood the pain tearing her apart. Camista's actions must seem like the ultimate betrayal. Blinded by anger, she was blinkered to anything Doctor Beckett or even her own daughter had tried to tell her. Why the people of Atlantis thought she would listen to him, he couldn't fathom. She resented him. Even more since he'd formed a relationship with his daughter. He would try to help. It was the least he could do. He owed Colonel Sheppard a lot more than his life. Unfortunately he was doubtful Pellista would give him the time of day.

"Why is my daughter here, Major? I would have thought it unwise given the situation."

Lorne frowned, and Daalen could see he was uneasy. "She asked to come. Camista wanted to see what had happened for herself…it was Mr Woolsey's call, not mine. Camista will tell you she doesn't need protecting, and from the way I've seen her spar – I don't doubt it." He looked at Camista with respect. "If you're worried, don't be. Those guys in the overalls are marines. Plus Teyla is keeping an eye on her. Trust me. They won't let anything happen to her."

Daalen was just about to thank him when Doctor Beckett and that annoying man, McKay, picked their way through the undergrowth to come and join them. According to John Sheppard he was brilliant, but he didn't consider that as an excuse for bad manners. On the fortunately rare occasions they'd met, he'd considered him rude, his sharp, irritating voice offensive. The only reason he'd stayed his hand, was out of respect for John and Mr Woolsey. Doctor Beckett on the other hand had been kindness itself. When the delegation had come to search for their missing people, the good doctor stayed behind to offer medical assistance to him and his men.

"It's a nasty business, right enough." the doctor said, taking in the blackened remains before turning to examine him. "How are you feeling now, Daalen? How's the headache?"

"A lot better...and thank you again for your help. Lalleen is sitting up in bed. He wanted to come and help with the clean up operation, but I threatened to restrain him if he set foot out of the camp."

McKay had been standing with his arms folded, tapping his fingers, not bothering to hide his impatience. Daalen had been studiously ignoring him, wondering how long he'd manage to stay silent. Not that long apparently, as he soon rudely interrupted their conversation.

"Yes, yes…We all know Carson is the king of voodoo…but can we get this show on the road?"

Daalen gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Certainly." He waved his hand towards the forest and started to move off. "Would you gentlemen care to follow me?"

"So…how do you do this?" McKay asked, his eyes darting over the clearing. "Do you have a com link?" When Daalen raised an eyebrow, McKay huffed and rolled his eyes. "You know - a _radio_."

"This is Raedelous, Doctor…_not_ Atlantis. We are simple people who have had little contact from other races. The only reason I am vaguely aware of these things is because I have visited your city."

He was proud of his heritage, but after having visited the city of the Ancients was sorely aware of the planet's deficiencies. Nevertheless, he didn't like being made a fool of. The color rose in his cheeks, and his hands balled into fists by his side.

"_Rodney_…" Beckett's unusual accent seemed to drag out the name as he wordlessly shook his head. Surprisingly it seemed to have an admonishing effect on the rude scientist.

"_Sorry_…I didn't mean," The small man went scarlet and started to babble, "I'm just worried about Sheppard and Ronon."

His anger fled, and Daalen stopped to consider McKay properly for the first time. He was without doubt one of the most annoying men he'd ever met, but he was clearly a good friend of John Sheppard. If the colonel liked him, trusted him even, he must be a man of substance. Although he wondered how he managed to put up with his constant whining.

Daalen nodded sympathetically. "Of course, that is perfectly understandable, Doctor McKay, however I doubt Pellista will have killed them. She is a hard woman, but not foolish. She must know if she kills your colonel, then her meagre weapons will not protect them against the might of your soldiers."

McKay's face visibly paled, and all three Atlantians went quiet.

As the words left his mouth, Daalen only partly believed them. Pellista wasn't stupid, at least not usually. Even taking these men wasn't like her. For some time now, there had been an unspoken agreement. Provided they respected each other's borders, the uneasy peace would reign. If any of his men were foolish enough to stray into Vergonan territory, no retribution would follow, they would have only themselves to blame. He had done it once, and still carried the scars. Nevertheless, it had been worth it for a glimpse of his baby daughter.

"We're here." Daalen stopped in front of a row of tall, golden leafed trees, and put his hand up.

Major Lorne, who'd been hanging back, came to stand beside him. He was scanning the area, his grip on his weapon so firm, his knuckles were white. "What happens now, Daalen?"

Daalen reached into his pocket, and pulled out a whistle.

"That's it? _This_ is your communications system?" McKay's eyes went wide as he looked at him, incredulous.

Daalen didn't respond, and put the silver whistle to his lips. A loud, piercing blast followed.

"_Ow! _Couldn't you have given us a _little_ warning?" The man's face was twisted in pain as he turned to the doctor. "Carson, are my ears bleeding? I'm sure my eardrums have been perforated."

Carson patiently gave him a quick examination. "No, Rodney…there's no blood. As for your eardrums, the whales perforated them some time ago, remember? Though I grant you it was a wee bitty loud."

Daalen was struggling not to laugh as McKay continued to poke his ears, and shake his head. "My apologies, gentlemen…but as you have just heard for yourselves, our way of communicating is simple, but effective."

"**How will** -"

"You're shouting, Rodney."

McKay looked surprised when Beckett tapped him on the shoulder. He only appeared embarrassed for a second before continuing again in a slightly quieter voice. "How will we know if Pellista agrees to come?"

"She has a horn. If she agrees to meet with me, she will blow it twice. It too by necessity is also loud."

"_Wonderful_…" McKay started rubbing his forehead and turned to the doctor. "I don't suppose you have any extra strength Tylenol on you?"

ooooOoooo

They had been sitting about for hours, and the sun was starting to dip below the tree line when Daalen heard the mournful sound of the horn drifting through the air.

It was just like Pellista to keep him waiting. She'd always been the same. When she'd arrived over an hour late for their first joining, he'd put it down to nerves. He couldn't have been more wrong. The young beauty who walked into the tent had known exactly what she was doing. It was one of her games to show him who was boss. He'd ignored it then. In the years since, her pointless display of arrogance had simply made him smile, but today he was growing angry. This wasn't one of their games. Two men's lives were at stake.

His head swam as he scrambled to his feet. Doctor Beckett was by his side supporting his arm, and was already examining his eyes by the time he regained his composure. "I am fine, doctor…I just got up a little too quickly." He pulled away as politely as possible, but Beckett continued watching him.

"You shouldn't be here, laddie. That was a nasty blow to the head you took. You should be resting."

His head was throbbing, but Daalen stood up to his full height and forced a small smile. "And I will, Doctor…as soon as I've concluded my meeting with Pellista. In the meantime you all need to stay well out of sight. If she suspects I have company, she will leave at once."

Lorne stared into the forest that marked the boundary, clearly uneasy. "I'm not happy about this. We already know she has Colonel Sheppard, probably Ronon too. What's to stop her attacking you?"

Daalen put a hand on his shoulder. "Because, Major, I am the leader of my people. She knows me. We may not see eye to eye over a lot of things, but the rare meetings we have are sacrosanct. Now…you really must go."

Doctor Beckett looked worried as he walked away, but so surprisingly was McKay. He really was a man of many layers. Daalen didn't have much longer to consider his new friends when shortly after their departure, the rustling of leaves signalled Pellista's arrival.

"Good evening, Daalen. I trust I've not kept you waiting too long?"

She was as beautiful as ever. Daalen pushed down the feelings he'd had from the first time they'd met, and gave her a wry smile. "This is a dangerous game you are playing, Pellista. The Atlantians know you have Colonel Sheppard. The question is why? And where are you holding his companion?"

Her eyes lit up, and her generous red lips curled into a teasing smile. "That was two questions, Daalen…I would normally only be prepared to answer one, but I'm intrigued. With all the wonders at their disposal how is they know I have one man, but not the other? That is very interesting - very interesting indeed."

"_Pellista_…"

Not losing sight of him for a second, she slowly walked around the clearing stopping occasionally to look into the tree line of the Semalaen border. "Just checking…But I expect you told your new friends to stay out of sight – very wise."

Frustrated, he couldn't help raising his voice. "Pellista! I am here…they are _not_. Now please, answer the questions."

She started to frown, and as her eyes hardened all the beauty fled from her face. "I've never seen you angry before, Daalen…I don't think I like it."

"And I have never known you to do anything foolish before…so we are both entering new territory." He replied in a low voice while matching her glare.

She was furious, but he could also tell his new approach had unsettled her a little. Part of him wished he'd tried this tack years ago. "I tell you what. If you release the colonel and his companion, I am sure I can convince them to drop the matter of their abduction."

"And for a moment I thought you'd lost your sense of humor." Pellista started to laugh, but there was no humor in the harsh, hollow sound. "You can tell them that the colonel and I are engaging in…_talks_. As for his friend, I can't help you."

"Can't…or won't, Pellista?"

The laughter died, and her mouth formed a cruel line. "These are dangerous woods. In the dim light it's very easy for a man to get mistaken for anurania…I hope they find him quickly. I would hate to think one of my women shot him by mistake."

Instinctively he grabbed hold of her arm. "Don't, Pellista…don't do whatever it is you're planning. If anything happens to these men, I won't be able to protect you."

Her look of surprise was quickly replaced with rage as she pulled out his grasp. He staggered slightly as she pushed him away. "_Protect_ me? How dare you! I am the Priestess of Vergonan. I don't need anyone's protection – least of all yours."

Daalen shrugged, his defeat making him suddenly exhausted. "As you wish."

Pellista turned on her heel, and was nearly at her border when he called out. "I am sorry the sanctuary burned down. Odeen wanted to meet you. He's barely six seasons old but already he's very smart. He looks like his mother…he has your eyes."

She stopped in her tracks. For a moment he thought she would turn round, or even answer with a rebuke, but she didn't make a sound. Seconds later she was gone, and any hope of a peaceful resolution with her. He didn't doubt the Atlantians would now use force to get back their leader. He couldn't blame them. In their shoes he would do exactly the same.

ooooOoooo

It took all day for the sun to move from his side of the building. With nowhere to hide from its fierce rays, his skin was burned raw. The old woman hadn't returned, but at some point during the long, hot day a bowl of _something_ and a mug of water had been left within reach. John sipped the water and had tried to make it last, but it was soon gone without even making a dent on his thirst.

The stuff in the bowl made him want to heave when he'd smelt it. There was nothing wrong with the food, but the concussion was doing a number on his stomach. With his neck chained almost flush with the wall, he didn't relish the consequences of spilling his guts.

When something resembling a dog came by to check him out, it didn't take any prompting for the mutt to solve a pressing problem. The little guy was kinda cute, only the forked, straggly tail stopped him looking like Caco, the Jack Russell he'd had as a kid. At least he'd made a friend. Whether it was because the creature was looking for another handout, he didn't know. Maybe Pellista's boot had scrambled his brains, but when the creature sat down and curled up by his leg, he was glad of the company.

Despite being exhausted, he'd been in too much misery for sleep to come. His back was throbbing, the dull pain intermittent with stabs of intense burning when he lent any weight against the wall. The lacerations on his chest protested at the arm strapped against his torso, but it was nothing compared to the deep, raw constant pain of his broken arm. He tried to keep it steady but even the slightest movement reignited the fire, making him tremble as his body screamed in agony. He wondered where his team was. They must have known he was missing by now. More than anything he hoped Ronon was still alive. If Pellista had killed him, he would make her pay regardless of the repercussions.

It was clear Pellista had left him on display. Why, he could only guess. Some of the younger women armed for a day's hunting, sneered as they called out obscenities before disappearing into the forest. Others ignored him. What surprised him were those who looked at him with sadness, not anger, seemingly embarrassed at his predicament as they hurried about their business. He wondered how these women really felt about the sanctuary. John reckoned the old woman was right. If it hadn't been burned to the ground it might not have been the failure Pellista expected.

It was growing dark, and he could hear the sound of voices drifting from the main compound. From the smell of food wafting towards him he guessed dinner was almost ready. He still wasn't hungry but his ass was numb, and he wondered how long he'd been sitting there. Unfortunately his watch had been smashed during one of the bouts, so there was no way of knowing the time. When his companion gave him a doleful look and wandered away, he couldn't blame him. After all when there was food on the go, a mutt had other priorities.

The shivers had started a while back. A stiff breeze had arrived with the dusk and it was getting chillier by the minute, but his skin was clammy and hot, so John knew it wasn't just down to the cold.

He wondered if he'd be taken indoors for the night, or even given a blanket. By the way he'd been treated so fair it seemed unlikely. When another round of the shakes started, he groaned as the motion reawakened the aches in his body. As his arm jerked, a tear escaped and fell down his cheek. When he saw an old woman hobble towards him he blinked, stopping the flow. He didn't want any of these bitches to see him beaten. It was only as she got closer he realized there was something strangely familiar about the figure coming towards her. When she bent down low, his heart started racing. "Camista! What the hell are you doing here?"

She kept her hood around her face, but he could see the anger in her eyes when they flitted over his wounds. "I am so sorry, John. My mother had no right…she…Anyway, I have come to get you out of here."

John twisted his neck, but the short chain stopped him seeing all the way round. Night had fallen and they were shrouded in darkness. The women were at their evening meal so he hoped they were occupied, but he had a bad feeling about this.

"You have to go, Camista. It's you she really wants…and I don't want you getting hurt. Besides, she has Ronon tucked away somewhere. If I escape – he dies."

"Don't worry…that's been -"

"Welcome home, Camista...I knew all I needed was the right incentive to bring you to your senses."

Pellista smiled, and signalled to the women standing behind her. They immediate overpowered Camista and roughly tied her hands behind her back. Pellista went up to her daughter tilted her chin, and brushed the curls back from her angry face. "Girls…take my daughter to my quarters, and keep guard. I'm going to finish my meal first, Camista, then it's high time you and I had a nice mother and daughter chat."

ooooOoooo

TBC

Oh, dear! Pellista's _chats_ never end well!

Thanks again for all the reviews, and I hope everyone got replies this time! And please, keep sending me your feedback. I love it when you share your thoughts with me. - Joanie.


	17. Chapter 17

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 17.

"Where are you going, old woman?"

The sharp tone stopped the elderly woman in her tracks. She looked alarmed and not a little surprised as a tall brunette appeared from the mouth of the cave holding a flaming torch in one hand, and a strange firearm in the other. The healer who had tended Sheppard's wounds earlier blinked as the bright light broke the darkness and assaulted her eyes. She lifted a wrinkled hand to shield them from the glare until the yellow circles disappeared, and she could focus on the younger woman in front of her. "I'm on my way to collect moss from the gisardle tree. One of the children is sick and I need it to reduce her fever."

The girl scanned the area, peering into the shadows created by the flickering flame. "You shouldn't be here. Get it somewhere else."

"I can't, these trees only grow at this side of the forest." She shrugged, and her expression became cynical. "I'm old. You can shoot me if you like…then you can go and explain to the girl's mother why her child died."

Her mouth twisted and the girl frowned. She moved away from the entrance and came to tower above the diminutive figure. She glanced at the woven basket the woman was carrying and started poking inside.

"That smells good." She sniffed, and pulled out a package of sandwiches wrapped in faded blue material. A wry smile tugged at her mouth. "_Thanks_, these will keep us going until dinner."

The old woman's face crumpled. "Please…this is all the food I have -"

She ignored her, continuing to rummage around the basket some more. "Now what do we have here …This is more like it!" The brunette grinned as she lifted out a glass bottle, pulled off the cork, and took a swig of the ruby coloured liquid. "Whoa, this packs a punch! Well, well, who'd have thought?" She glanced at the old woman with surprise. "Did you make it yourself?"

"It is tonic wine, and yes I make it myself, just like I do everything else. I don't get anything from the village – you know that."

"We let you stay here…what more do you want?" The guard snatched the basket away, making her stagger as she struggled to keep her balance. "I'll keep this. Consider it a _contribution_ to your sisters. Now leave. Hurry up and get your moss, but return by a different route. I don't want to see you near this cave again."

She watched the old lady shuffle away, and once she was out of sight took the basket into the cave. Her companion who'd been poking the dying embers of the log fire looked up. "Who was it? And what do you have there?"

"Dinner," the brunette smiled, setting down the basket, "I took it from the old healer who lives on the outskirts on the compound. It's just a few sandwiches, but they'll keep us going until we get relieved. We even have some wine." She took out the bottle in triumph, then glanced over at the sleeping prisoner restrained against one of the beams. "Had any more trouble from him?"

The blonde sauntered over and pulled up Ronon's head by his hair. He was out cold. "As soon as he started to wake he began struggling again, so I gave him another dose." She gazed with admiration at his face, then planted a firm, lingering kiss on his mouth. There was no response. She let go of the hair, and his head slumped onto his chest. "Pity he isn't Semalaen, I would have enjoyed joining with him."

"Hey…we're not supposed to like it! Anyway, you'd better not let Pellista hear you talk like that, or you'll be joining the old woman in disgrace." Her friend laughed. It faded as she shivered, and started vigorously rubbing her arms. "It's freezing in here. We should have got more wood while it was still light." She muttered as she looked at the dwindling pile of firewood, and threw a small branch into the fire. "Here," she winked, handing over the bottle. "_My lady_ can't possibly object to us having a little drink to keep the chill off."

Blondie took a swig, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "No, and after missing out on the fun today, I really don't care if she does. But how would she find out anyway?"

ooooOoooo

Hidden by the shadows the old woman's lips curled into a smile.

Dusk had given way to the inky blackness of a star-studded sky, but she didn't need more than their illumination to guide her path. Darena had grown up in this forest. Every tree, every uneven path was ingrained into her memory. When she saw the glint of honey gold hair in between the gap of trees at the agreed meeting place, she nodded to the slim, uniformed woman who came out into the open.

"It has been done. These greedy arrogant girls are all the same. They think they know everything. Treat the old as beneath their notice." Her smile held a touch of malice. "It won't be long until they succumb to the sleeping draft. Hours before they wake up with such a headache they'll wish they were dead." Darena was used to the chilly nights. She wore enough layers to keep out the cold, but her old body objected to the damp creeping into her bones. She winced as she settled down on a tree stump.

Teyla smiled, but it only temporarily masked her anxious expression. "Thank you. I, and my people appreciate the risk you have taken by helping us, but are you sure my friend is inside?"

Darena nodded. "As sure as I can be. I know nothing about this transmitter you talk about, but the raw meat and preserves are stored in the caves because the thick walls keep them cold and fresh. In any case, it is unusual for it to be guarded by one of the warriors. Also, the firearm carried by the guard was unfamiliar to me."

"Please, call me Teyla. And what is your name? You did not mention it when we were introduced."

After so many years of being ignored, this was the third time in one day she'd been acknowledged. First by the man she'd helped. Then came the surprise, but welcome visit from Camista. Now, she was being asked again by the pretty woman in front of her. Perhaps it was time. Perhaps now she could allow herself to hope she would once again regain some kind of acceptance. Her mouth went dry as the name she hadn't spoken for many years sounded strange to her ears. "Darena."

Teyla offered a hand to help the old lady off her makeshift seat. "Well, Darena. What do you say we go and rescue my friend?"

ooooOoooo

John tried to make out the raised voices drifting across the compound. He couldn't hear what was being said, but was pretty sure the clipped, snarky one belonged to Camista. He'd been on the receiving end of it himself. If it was, it sure didn't sound like she was backing down. One thing was certain. It wouldn't go down well with Mommy Dearest, and a pissed Pellista - as he knew to his cost - wasn't a good thing. He flinched, cursing under his breath, as he forgot about his sliced back and leaned heavily against the wall.

It was a beautiful starry night. In any other circumstances he would have enjoyed the view, but his stomach clenched with worry. Not for himself. He was a big boy, and this wasn't his first abduction. He was worried about Camista. If Lorne was responsible for this screw up they would have words, but the audacious, reckless plan wasn't like him. In any case his XO knew better than to put a civilian in harm's way, especially when that civilian was someone he'd taken under his wing.

The more he thought about it, the crazy plan had Camista written all over it. It was just like her to walk in bold as brass under her mother's nose. Stupid but brave.

It had been a dumb thing to try and save him, although he was touched by the sentiment. He just hoped she wasn't working alone. Pellista might not kill her daughter, but there was no doubt in his mind she would make her pay. He couldn't bear the thought of her being hurt, but restrained, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it if Pellista wanted her punished. There was also the matter of the little guy at home. He didn't want his namesake to grow up without his mom. After everything, every sacrifice she'd been through, leaving him behind would destroy her. Where the hell was his team…

His fist clenched and unclenched at his side, frustration making him antsy. When two of the warriors came towards him he flew forward without thinking. The short chain attached to his collar pulled him back, and he slammed his head, hard, against the wall. He saw stars. Worse than the thumping headache, the sharp movement had jerked his broken limb bringing tears to his eyes.

"That wasn't too smart…was it, Colonel?

He answered with a glare as she unlocked the collar and pulled it apart. "Nice of you to release me. Now, if you could give me directions to the clearing, I'll be on my way."

The older girl, the one who'd thanked him, was on her hunkers, her pretty face and dark brown eyes at close quarters. Instead of the snappy retort he'd expected John saw her quickly mask her unease as she went to help him up. "My lady wants to see you."

He'd been sitting for so long his rear and thighs were numb. She was strong, her support as gentle as she could make it, but with his ankles still held fast by chains, he stumbled and let out a moan as the poisoned dwarf, the girl who'd yielded the whip, grabbed his broken arm. White hot pain shot up his limb and in agony, he collapsed and curled into a ball biting his lip, trying not to cry out.

"_Get up_ -" Fogged by pain, he was only dimly aware of Whip Girl about to kick him. Brown Eyes pulled her back.

"Leave him alone!" She was taller than the blond girl, and her mane of auburn hair swung round her shoulders as she pulled her colleague round to face her. "Colonel Sheppard is hurt, having given his all in an unfair fight - don't try to deny it, my sister. I may be bound to obey the orders of my priestess, but the least we can do is give this man the respect he deserves."

The girl scowled and muttered something under her breath, none too careful as she pulled on his damaged ribs as she helped haul him up. He nodded his thanks to the older woman just as she grabbed his good wrist. "I'm sorry, but I have to bind your hands together. I will try to be as gentle as I can." She looked away embarrassed, as she pulled out a piece of rope from the belt around her skirt.

He felt his muscles shaking, and was aware his breathing had become ragged as after she tied the rope round his wrist, she then looped it over the swollen hand of his broken arm. He didn't pull and tried to keep it steady but it hurt like hell, the restraint more effective because of that. Any chance of escaping had been slim at best. Now it was pretty much impossible.

It was dark, progress slow because of his stumbling gate. When they passed the compound John noticed it was empty. The last meal of the day would have been consumed, the remnants cleared away long ago, but it was too quiet and he wondered where everyone was. Most of all he wondered where they were taking him. His feet were stinging. His soles cut to ribbons by every sharp stone and broken branch along the forest floor. Where ever the hell they were going, he wanted to get there soon. At least he did, until he saw the sight ahead.

It was a river, and by the sound of the roaring water it was not only deep but the current was strong. There was a small area of shingle beach leading into it, and he was led right to the waters edge.

His escort stepped back, and that's when he saw them. It appeared as if the whole tribe were there, lined up along the tree line. En masse they looked more formidable than ever. Then he saw them part as Pellista appeared, still arguing with her daughter who was struggling to escape the clutches of her two guards.

"Let her go, Pellista. If you want to hurt me some more, fine. But don't punish Camista for trying to do the right thing."

"Still trying to dictate to me in front of my own people, Colonel?" Pellista shook her head. "I would have thought you would have learned by now."

"Yeah…I get that a lot, but what can I say? I'm a slow learner. When something isn't right, I just can't help sticking my nose in." John smirked, and didn't allow his fear to show. "Let her go, Pellista…let us both go. You're a smart woman, you have to know my people will be on their way."

Pellista's face went scarlet. "You have turned my daughter against me. Threatened to destroy the only way of life I've ever known. I don't doubt your people will come, but when they do…you will be dead -"

"No!" Camista yelled. She lunged forward, but was held fast by the two women by her side. "Mother…_please_…this is wrong. Don't do this."

Pellista brushed back the golden curls, and stroked her daughter's face. "But I have to, my child. It is the only way I can make you understand. You have always been a stubborn girl, so taking the whip to your back would serve little purpose." She glanced over at him. "Watching him die will be your punishment."

Camista pulled back from her touch, repelled. "If you seriously believe I would stay after that you are delusional, and would do well to kill me now, mother." Camista strained against her guards until she was able to face the line of women. "Listen to me, my sisters. When I chose to keep my son, I didn't do it to break up our tribe. You – all of you – have the right to lead the life you choose…but so do I. In the home of the Ancients I have seen a different side to life. Women and men live and work together in peace. Not only that but they care for one another. Not just as friends and colleagues, but some even find happiness in sharing a life together. I want the right to keep my son. The right to love, and perhaps one day be loved by the man of my choosing. Right now, I want the right to return here with my son. This is my home, and I want him to grow up amongst the people I care about…I even want him to know his grandmother -"

A slow hand clap from Pellista made her stop. "Very touching…but this is not about what you want, Camista. Just because you have spent a few weeks living in the city of the Ancestors you would have us abandon our beliefs. Put our lives in the hands of our aggressors…"

"So you are still frightened of the Semalaens." Camista shook her head, and snorted. "What do you think they would do, mother? Hold us against our will? Beat us? Put us in chains?" She looked past Pellista, over to John. "Isn't that the way you've treated this man?" Camista's voice became cynical as she rounded on her mother. "The men who oppressed our ancestors are long gone, just as in the years since the women we've become would never allow that kind of treatment again. It is time. If we want a future on this planet we need to put the past behind us. To forgive. If we don't…there will be none of us left. No one left to hate."

John had been holding his breath through Camista's passionate exchange. He hoped it had made an impression. Even if it hadn't, he was proud of her. Woolsey would need to watch his job. He got his answer a moment later.

"Enough! Gag my daughter. I don't want any further interruptions." As the muffled protest went on behind her, Pellista stood on her heel and made her way toward him. "You have just run out of time, Colonel Sheppard. Pray to whatever God it is you believe in. It is time for you to pay for your crimes against this tribe."

Stony-faced, John didn't flinch from her glare. "If you kill me, you're killing an innocent man and you know it."

Pellista's eyes hardened. She gave him a thin, tight smile before turning her back on him, to face the women. "Colonel John Sheppard, for endangering the lives of every woman in this tribe I sentence you to death by stoning." She nodded to the first woman in the line. "Proceed…"

Dread expanded clenching his airway, as the first woman came forward. She hesitated. Barely looking at him as she picked up a small stone from a pile he hadn't noticed on the way in. It missed by a mile.

"Again!" Pellista shouted at her. "If you don't hit him next time…you will be standing by his side."

There were tears in her eyes, and the girl was shaking as she quickly picked up another stone. Pain exploded in his chest as it hit dead centre. He bent over, staggering, barely managing to regain his balance in time for the next assault.

The next stinging blow hit his right thigh, and the pain was so fierce his leg nearly gave way. He stumbled, the motion jerking his broken arm. Darkness wavered, and it was only the ache from the next glancing hit on his shoulder that brought him back to his senses.

He locked eyes with every one of the women as they came forward. But the silent treaty for them to stop went unheeded. Eventually their faces started to merge as his life became a world of pain. He was already a mess after Pellista's idea of sparring. Now there wasn't one place left that didn't hurt. His legs, chest, arms even his hands were bruised to hell as each rock hit the target. So far he'd managed to protect his arm by standing slightly to the side, and only moving at the last minute. It was only sheer luck no one had hit his head.

He was panting, struggling to catch a breath, as the two women who'd brought him came forward. Brown Eyes looked at him as she picked up a rock, then something in her expression changed. Instead of throwing it, she allowed it to fall to the ground. "I will not be party to this…murder. Punish me if you like, Pellista, but I am done persecuting this innocent man."

Pellista said nothing, but her rage was evident in her voice. "Next!"

Whip Girl had no such qualms. She winked as she picked up a large stone and threw it with all her might. He ducked, and it went whizzing past his ear. He glanced over at Pellista, challenging her to acknowledge his small victory. She didn't. Furious, she went to go again, but Pellista put up her hand.

"No…you have had your chance. Now it's time for me to end this."

Pellista pulled out a sling shot from her pocket. "Never let it be said I don't finish what I start. Good bye, Colonel Sheppard."

The priestess bent down and searched until she found a small, but long piece of jagged rock. His blood ran cold as he watched her place it in the leather pocket of the simple weapon, knowing she wouldn't miss when he saw the grim determination as she took aim through the forked wood. When she pulled back the firing mechanism and let it fly he felt the thud, and staggered as the impact sent him stumbling back. His mind went numb, his body leaden as his fingers probed the sharp piece of stone wedged in his abdomen. John felt the slick wetness, saw the red stain covering his fingers but somehow his brain couldn't connect.

When the pain hit, the scream died in his throat. He looked at Camista, she was crying. He wanted to tell her it would be okay. That it wasn't her fault. But his chest was heavy, and he couldn't pull in enough air to get the words out. His body was trembling, and his rubber legs crumpled beneath him. The last thing he saw was Pellista smiling as the darkness claimed him. He didn't hear Teyla's shout or Ronon's blaster. He didn't hear the splash or feel the icy water as the current dragged him into the river…

ooooOoooo

TBC.

Thanks again to those who reviewed, and to all the readers who are still following the story.

I hope you enjoyed that, and please let me know what you think of the chapter/story.

And to all those in the path of hurricane Sandy please take care, and keep safe. My prayers are with you all - Joanie.


	18. Chapter 18

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 18

The damage was done, but Ronon shot Pellista anyway. He'd ignored Teyla's glare and muttered warning as he'd charged his weapon. It was only Sheppard's disembodied voice in his head that had made him turn his blaster to stun at the last second. When he saw his buddy fall boneless into the water, he wished he'd killed the bitch.

The old woman had revived him with something that tasted like shit, but his head hurt, still fuzzy from the damn crap those freaking women had shot in his system. Watching Sheppard hit, then fall into the water sent his adrenaline into overdrive, the fog long gone by the time he hit the water.

He gasped, shivering, as the freezing water stung his skin, his lungs burning as the raging current forced the liquid down his throat. His limbs were already becoming numb, and even though he'd been in for less than a minute, a deep weary heaviness was seeping into his bones. None of it mattered. He needed to find his buddy fast. A quick look along the length of river told him Sheppard must have gone under. He pushed back the panic, filled his lungs with air, and dived into its depths. His eyes were smarting but he kept them open, ignoring the icy throb as he allowed them to adjust and focus on the underwater landscape. The water was clear, but it was dark outside and with no light filtering into the depths, it was hard to see much of anything.

Under the surface everything sounded muted. With his senses compromised, it was sheer luck he was looking the right way when he spotted a glint of silver. Ronon headed right for it hoping it wasn't a glimmer from the scales of a fish, his relief palpable when Sheppard's feet finally came into view. They were chained together. The red lines where his skin was abraded made his blood boil. His anger increased when he saw the bound wrists. What kind of women were they? He'd come across some bitches in his time, but Pellista won the prize. She'd known Sheppard wouldn't have stood a chance even if he had been conscious. This wasn't just revenge. She'd tried to make sure he wasn't coming back.

Sheppard's face was slack, deathly pale even in the dark water. His hair the only sign of life as the straight, spiky mane was whipped around by the current. His limp body a dead weight, as gravity tried to pull the lanky figure further down into the depths. Ronon's lungs were bursting. Small black dots appeared in front of his eyes. He blinked and shook his head, but they were getting bigger with every laboured breath and obscuring his vision. His arms were trembling, his body becoming heavy and lethargic with the lack of air. He knew he needed to surface soon, but wasn't prepared to let him go. Sluggish, he was dimly aware of a movement by his side and his head snapped round. As his vision cleared, he saw it was Lorne who'd tapped him on the shoulder before grabbing Sheppard's other side. He hadn't wanted help, but grudging admitted it was easier with two of them. It took mere seconds to break the surface. He glanced at Lorne, but no acknowledgement was needed. They barely took time to catch their breath before making for the shore and into the waiting arms of Carson, Teyla and Camista.

Without giving Lorne a chance to protest, he scooped Sheppard up to carry him the last few feet. The man wasn't a lightweight despite what McKay believed and Ronon's legs were shaking, close to giving out before he finally laid him on dry land. John's skin was cold as ice, his lips blue. While in his arms he'd tried to find a pulse, but his numb, clumsy fingers had been unable to tell if his friend was dead or alive. He saw Pellista lying there. If Sheppard died, he _would_ finish the job he'd started.

ooooOoooo

"He's not breathing…"

Carson had done a quick inventory of the wounds he could see as Sheppard's battered body was carried out the water, but he pushed them to the back of his mind as he tilted John's chin and started CPR. If he couldn't bring him back, none of them would matter.

Over a minute passed, but John remained deathly still. Not a response as he continued pumping his chest, counting the beats of every set while he searched his face for a flicker of life. Blood oozed through his fingers but there was so much bruising and so many ragged cuts, he couldn't be sure where it was coming from. It was a worrying amount, but he needed to focus on the job in hand. Hopefully there would be time to investigate later. He felt, rather than heard the snap as a rib broke. Carson cursed under his breath. It was a complication he didn't need, but one unfortunately common with prolonged CPR. He prayed to God the injury wouldn't be the death of his friend, once of course he'd brought him back to life.

It was cold and he'd been freezing when they'd first arrived, but the exertion was making him hot and sticky. His arms ached, tired with the effort of keeping up the pressure of the firm, constant thrusts. More than anything he was angry. John Sheppard had been horrifically beaten, and for what - a damned war of the sexes. It was so bloody pointless. Worse, it had happened because of the birth of a child. Children were precious, a gift. They were born pure, free from hatred and prejudice. They had no guile, not a single evil bone in their body. Yet Camista's beautiful little boy had unwittingly been the cause of this. While he'd slept in his mothers arms, his mere presence had nearly caused a war. Four men lay in an early grave because of it. He only hoped his friend wasn't going to join them.

Carson knew there was activity going on behind but in the small circle surrounding him, no one moved. Not a word was uttered, not even by Rodney. The tension mounting as he worked, counting out the compressions, trying to keep hope alive, determined the man he'd known for so long wouldn't lose his life because a neurotic woman couldn't deal with a bad case of empty nest syndrome. When he saw the twitch, Carson held his breath. When John's hazel eyes flew open closely followed by a gurgled moan, he gently rolled the wounded man onto his side, and watched with relief as water started to spill from his mouth.

He cradled the dark head, but decided against rubbing circles on his back when he saw the torn skin. "Easy, Colonel…it's Carson. You're going to be okay."

Sheppard was shaking so hard Carson was frightened he was going to nick him as he cut the ropes from his wrists. When they fell away without him having done doing further damage he sat back on his hunkers, relieved. Teyla gave him a smile as she handed over a pile of blankets.

John's hands were a torn, bloody mess and his body a mass of ragged cuts and livid bruises. His swollen, red, blistered skin a tell tale sign he'd been left to burn in the sun. The crooked angle of John's arm told its own story. He needed to immobilise the limb before moving him, but first there was a more pressing priority - blood loss. Carson quickly applied a pressure bandage on the culprit, a small but deep laceration in the abdominal area, before layering the blankets over his body and around his dripping head. The shakes could still be felt through the mound of blankets.

He'd only turned away for a second to grab an IV kit, when John yelped as he tried to force himself up. His eyes panicked as they wildly darting about. "Gah! _Whuh_…where's Ronon?"

"I'm here, Sheppard…" Ronon had allowed the blanket to fall from his shoulders as he moved into a position where his friend could see him. The Satedan who was normally the picture of good health looked pinched, his normally tanned complexion whiter than his grannie's best china. Carson retrieved the blanket and ignored the scowl as he put it back, nodding to Marie to take care of him.

Sheppard's laboured breaths were shallow and ragged, his clenched jaw the only obvious sign of the pain he was suffering. Carson put a hand on his arm to get his attention. "You need to lay still, Colonel. I'm going to give you something to take the edge of the pain in a moment, then I'll immobilise your arm. I won't lie to you, it will still hurt. But once we get back to Atlantis I'll be able to top you up with something stronger." He grew alarmed when his patient looked blankly ahead before closing his eyes. "Colonel... _Colonel _Sheppard! I know it's hard, but don't go to sleep on me." Carson felt cruel, but after nearly losing him he wanted to keep his patient responsive for as long as possible. When he saw a slit of hazel, he smiled. "Good, Lad." He turned round to look for help and saw Major Teldy. "Major, we'll need some bolt cutters." He lifted back the blankets far enough so the pretty major could see the chains around John's feet.

Her jaw tensed up, and he could see a flash of anger before the composed professional mask was once again back in place. "Certainly, Doctor…I'll be back shortly."

His role as medic was simple, but he was aware how tricky the politics of the situation was. In his view Woolsey deserved a pat on the back for having recommended a mixed group for the mission, although allowing Camista to join the party hadn't been one of his better ideas. Still, hindsight was 20/20 and without Camista's plan B, Ronon might have ended up dead. Nevertheless it was a sensible move putting Major Teldy in charge of dealing with the women. The Vergonans looked uneasy, nervous even, but having seen what they'd done to the colonel they had to be considered dangerous.

When he saw Lorne about to join her, Carson shook his head. "Sorry, Major, but you're sitting this one out. You're dripping wet, and who knows what beasties were in that water you filled your lungs with. I want you and Ronon checked out in the infirmary."

Lorne frowned, and some color fused into his pale cheeks. Carson thought he was about to protest when Evan sighed. "You're the boss, doc." The reply was said with more than a hint of frustration as he saw Teldy returning with a key in her hand.

Teldy gave the key to Carson and raised an eyebrow as she glanced towards the group of women being escorted away by marines. "I didn't need the cutters after all. Believe it or not, one of the women actually offered to help."

Carson nodded his thanks, swiftly unlocked the bands of metal, and threw them away in disgust.

Lorne pulled his blanket in a little tighter, as he tried and failed to suppress a shiver. "Thanks, Major…I'm afraid you'll need to carry on without me. The Doc says I've to sit this one out."

"Yes, Sir," Teldy replied, casting an anxious look over her CO then down at Sheppard. "I don't want you getting sick, Sir, especially with Colonel Sheppard in such a bad way." One of her officers signalled something to her, and she nodded in response. "That's most of the Vergonans back in the settlement. So far they haven't given us any problems…if you ask me I think they're relieved we arrived in time. What do you want me to do with the Priestess?"

Before Lorne could answer Camista broke away from Teyla's side to come between them. "If you take her away…there _will_ be a war."

"You should listen to the girl - Camista is right."

Carson was inserting a second IV when he heard the authoritative voice. He only took a moment to glance round. A group of five grey-haired older women wearing long, black robes approached.

"No, offence, Ladies…but who are you?" Lorne rose to his full height, and shared a puzzled look with Teldy.

"We are the guardians of our tribe. It is our job to offer support and guidance to the Priestess, however…I regret that it now appears we have allowed Pellista too much latitude. We were displeased when she broke the code, and abducted your Colonel Sheppard and his friend. But given her years of faithful leadership, we were prepared to give her time to realize the error of her ways. When she didn't allow your men to leave, we planned an intervention. Unfortunately it came too late. When we found Colonel Sheppard had gone, at first we thought she had done the right thing…then we heard your people arrive."

The old woman glared at the woman still lying, unconscious, on the ground. "I deeply regret what has happened. I can assure you if you leave the matter in our hands not only will Pellista be stripped of her office, but she will also be severely punished for her actions."

Pellista was starting to stir. The breeze was whipping her hair wildly about her face, and she looked feral as she squirmed on the ground, protesting at the zip tie securing her hands behind her back. When she spotted the group of older women, she froze and the sour expression was replaced by fear. "What are you doing here? I have done nothing wrong…I -"

"Silence! You broke the code, Pellista. I understand why, but you had no right to do what you did. This man is an off-worlder, not privy to our laws…and I heard about what you did. You had _no_ right to threaten one of your own, or intimidate others to carry out your petty revenge. Accept your punishment…or suffer the consequences."

Lorne glanced between the group of elder stateswomen, and the terrified defrocked Priestess. When he glanced down at Sheppard his mouth set into a thin, tight line. "I'm sorry, but after what she's done to Colonel Sheppard I don't have a choice. I need to bring her in to face trial."

"Please, Major…let them handle this," Camista pleaded, "they will ensure justice is done." There were unshed tears glistening in her eyes as she looked into the frightened eyes of her mother.

When one of old women approached Camista, Teldy stood in her way. "Sorry, lady, but Camista isn't part of the deal…she's coming with us."

"It is alright, Major, I appreciate but do not need your protection." Camista voice was firm, but not sharp as she nodded to the marine and moved past to stand in front of the woman.

"If you return to the tribe, Camista, you will face punishment for your actions…but you are still young, and I can see promise in you. It is possible that one day we may overlook what you have done and reinstate you as one of the chosen ones. In time, if you regain our favor, we might even consider you for the role of Priestess."

The tears vanished as Camista's face hardened, and she folded her arms. "I am aware that you consider this to be a generous offer, but I decline. With respect_,_ I do not need you or anyone else to tell me what I am capable of. I am my mother's daughter, and I have been brought up to lead…but this tribe isn't ready for the kind of changes I would make. One day I hope to be able to return to my sisters, but in the meantime I have the only role I want…mother to my son. However, I would ask you to show mercy. My mother was a good leader. This…what she did…was my fault."

"No offence, lass, but right now I don't care whose bloody fault this was – I need to get the colonel back to Atlantis – now!"

"Lorne…let her go. _Let_…let's go home." Sheppard's weak, thready voice grabbed their attention. Lorne nodded to the women, then Sheppard's face went still, and his head slumped to the side.

The color drained from Rodney's face. "_Is _he? Please tell me he's not…"

Carson checked for a pulse. It was faint, but still there. He looked up and shook his head. "No, but he will be if we don't get him back soon. Shake a leg people – we need to get moving."

ooooOoooo

TBC

Thanks again for the great reviews, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

And please review, as I love to get your feedback!


	19. Chapter 19

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 19

He didn't _do_ blood. Even watching Carson immobilise Sheppard's arm had made him want to barf. Rodney despised himself for the weakness, but it was what it was. Over the years he'd had no choice but to put up with the barbs, and the unfunny snarky comments.

One thing he didn't get used to - seeing his friends hurt. Every time you stepped through the 'gate you had some clue what was waiting on the other side, but there were always risks that all the intel and the MALP couldn't account for.

Often the only thing he suffered was boredom. All the backwater hamlets, and _quaint_ little town squares looked the same to him. Occasionally they got lucky. If they found a ZedPM or some undiscovered Ancient tech it made all the mind-numbing missions worthwhile, but when it went wrong, Rodney wondered if what they were doing was worth the price. Deep down he knew the high stakes of the Atlantis mission meant that loss of life was inevitable, but he didn't have to like it. The faces of the men he'd lost, especially Gall, Abrams and Peter Grodin often haunted him. They were scientists for Pete's sake. The worst injury they should have expected to deal with was a paper cut, but coming to Atlantis had changed all that. Still, he was sure neither man expected to meet their end at the hands of the Wraith.

Rodney hoped Sheppard wasn't going to join them. The cocky pilot was his friend. Not only that, John was his best friend. Men like him didn't make friends easily, and it was downright stupid, not to mention selfish for Sheppard to put himself in harm's way so often. It was at times like this he wished he believed in something other than pure science. Carson got comfort from his faith. The Scot had once told him it gave him the strength he needed to push all the darkness he'd seen aside. It kept him sane, focused, and allowed him to keep patching up the broken bodies that came into his care. Rodney envied him. Right now he could have done with something to give him reassurance.

All he could think about was the way Sheppard looked when they'd found him. He couldn't get the image of his broken body out of his mind. He'd never seen so many cuts, and livid bruises on one person. Outside in the dark he hadn't noticed the burns, but in the light of the jumper he was shocked at the areas of red, blistered skin. The water had washed away most of the dried blood, but there was a constant stream seeping from a wound in his abdomen. It didn't look much of a cut but no sooner had Carson applied a dressing, it was soaked through. He could tell Carson was concerned. The Scot hadn't given more than a muttered, '_he would know more later,_' to his question before he'd taken Sheppard away to be prepped for surgery.

"How is he?" Rodney jumped from the chair by Ronon's bed as Teyla strolled in the ward. Ronon, who'd been dozing, opened an eye and grunted as he pushed himself up the pillows.

"John is out of surgery. I spoke with Carson briefly before he accompanied him to the ICU. He managed to halt the bleeding, but it took longer than he'd hoped. John's spleen was damaged. He told me he tried to repair it, but the laceration was too deep." Her face darkened. "In the end he had no choice but to remove quite a large section."

She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair fell in wisps around her face. Rodney offered her the chair, and with a smile she took it before continuing the update. "John's vitals were starting to drop, so Carson decided to leave his arm until he is more stable. I confess to never having watched Carson operate before. He is a very skilled surgeon, but I think you were wise not to come into the observation room, Rodney. The view was surprising good - perhaps too _good_…It made me uncomfortable knowing it was John lying there, his insides cut open in front of me."

Rodney felt the bile rise in his throat. The urge to hurl again was greater than ever, but he grabbed Ronon's water instead.

"Are you feeling alright, Rodney?" Jennifer Keller appeared beside them. She was still in the blue surgical scrubs she'd donned to assist in Sheppard's surgery.

Remembering the dream he'd had about her, Rodney blushed. "_Me_…I'm fine - couldn't be better."

"When can I get out of here, doc?" Ronon's question grabbed her attention, and spared him any more embarrassment.

"Sorry, Ronon, but I heard a crackle in your lung. The good news is we've caught it in time. Dry drowning can catch people unawares. If we'd let you go back to you quarters, your lungs would have filled with fluid, and you'd have died in your sleep. As it is, I'm going to set you up with some intravenous antibiotics. In a couple of days you'll be just fine."

"Dry drowning?" Teyla raised an eyebrow. "I have never heard of such a thing."

"Sounds dumb," Ronon grumbled. His frown got deeper as he pointed at Lorne leaving the ward, accompanied by Nicky Koslov. "Why does he get to go? He was in the water too."

Jennifer sighed, and waited until Ronon put down his arm so she could prepare it for the IV before she replied. "Dry drowning is just as it sounds, Teyla. Even though the victim gets to dry land because your blood has been starved of oxygen, fluid can build up in the lungs long after you leave the water. It can as the description implies, literally drown you. And, Ronon, Major Lorne will be coming back for regular checks, but at the moment he isn't showing the symptoms you are. Apart from the crackle in your lung you're lethargic, and your vitals are sluggish. By all accounts you were under the water a long time searching for Colonel Sheppard…too long."

Jennifer pushed the needle into the back of his hand, and got a scowl for her trouble. It didn't seem to faze her in the least as she picked up the clear bag of fluid and made sure the liquid was flowing before she stepped back wearing a small smile. "There you go…Wait, there's one more thing." She reached for a cannula on the hook behind the head board, and got a muttered growl as she placed it under his nose. "Don't dare take it off or I _will_ sedate you." She warned with a glint in her eye. "You need it, Ronon. The extra oxygen will help your lungs to heal quicker."

"Doctor, Keller…do you have a minute?" Marie's harassed voice broke through the argument the Satedan was about to make.

"Sure, Marie, I won't be long. Rodney…when did you eat last?"

"I…_err_…I don't know." He felt the color flood back to his cheeks again, and was angry at himself for stammering like an idiot. What was wrong with him? It was Nicky he liked, not Jennifer. Although...he had to admit she _was_ pretty. Too pretty to be interested in a geeky guy like him.

"Well get yourself something to eat. The last thing we want is your hypoglycaemia acting up." She looked at him with such a far away look he wondered if she was sickening for something. He was starting to feel really uncomfortable when suddenly she snapped out of it and smiled as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Tell you what. I'm just going on my break so I'll come to the mess with you. We'll grab a quick snack, then bring something back for Teyla and Ronon. Just give me few minutes to deal with this." She didn't give him a chance to answer as she snapped off her gloves, and walked away. His tummy flipped again, but this time it was nothing to do with the nausea.

ooooOoooo

It had been a rough night putting the colonel back together.

Jennifer was tired, emotionally drained, but there was something about Rodney McKay that always made her smile. Some said he was a loud mouth and maybe he was, but she liked a man who said what he thought. Sure, he was a bit of a whiner but he was loyal to his friends, soft-hearted even, and - he was _cute_. He was also surprising shy for someone with such a big ego. There was no doubt about it, McKay might be the smartest man in two galaxies but sometimes the guy didn't have a clue. She'd always liked him, but watching him sick with worry about his friend had decided it. She would wear him down and make him notice her. Jennifer hoped it wouldn't take another life or death situation to do it.

She'd been a doctor for a long time, but it never ceased to amaze how cruel people could be. Colonel Sheppard was a good man, and hadn't deserved the abuse he'd received. The fact that a woman was responsible made it even more disturbing. They'd done what they could for now, but they'd nearly lost him when his pressure had plummeted half way through the surgery. It was still touch and go. Until he was stable for twenty-four hours, things could go either way. Carson was concerned, and so was she. Jennifer hoped he'd pull through. She didn't pretend to know him as well as the others, but there was one thing she was sure of. If Sheppard died, Atlantis wouldn't be the same without him.

Jennifer spotted Camista as she walked into the examination bay. Her face was chalk-white. Her eyes wide and tearful, darting about frantically as she held her baby tightly to her chest.

Marie came over and spoke in hushed tones. "I found her in the operating theatre. She was looking for Colonel Sheppard. I managed to convince her it wasn't good for the baby being there, it was then I noticed the cuts on her wrists. I asked her to let me treat them. She came in, but when my back was turned she disappeared. I caught her trying to sneak into the ICU."

Jennifer hadn't been on the planet. Only Sheppard knew the full story about what had happened there, and he wasn't able to tell them at the moment. Even from across the room she could see the damage and guessed the abrasions were caused by something rough, like rope, being tightly wound round Camista's wrists. If the poor kid was restrained, then who knew what other injuries she'd suffered? It was also clear she was in shock.

"Where is he? Where's John? I want to see him." Camista rushed towards her, her red hair flying around her shoulders as if it possessed a life of its own. Just then the baby started howling.

As Jennifer reached her hand out to touch the infant, Camista pulled back. The girl was spooked, so she decided to try a different tack. "And you will, once Carson has made sure he's settled in. But Colonel Sheppard is very ill, and we need to make sure he doesn't catch an infection. If you want to visit, those wrists will need to be treated."

For a moment the girl said nothing, just blankly staring at her uncertain what to do. Jennifer didn't speak either, merely extending her hand towards the treatment area. The standoff didn't last long, Camista being the one to break eye contact first as she slowly made her way towards the bed.

Marie put her hands out for the child. "I can't treat you while you're holding the baby." Jennifer informed her in a matter of fact tone. Camista frowned, then after kissing the small head reluctantly handed him to the nurse. She sat rigidly on the bed, looking anxious, her eyes never leaving the child as Marie walked over to the nurse's station.

Jennifer pulled on another pair of gloves and waited for the young girl to lower her right wrist. "That looks nasty. I'll clean it up, but you'll need an antibiotic and a tetanus shot. Do you have any other injuries?" She asked, and looked up to see tears welling in her eyes.

"No…My mother never intended to hurt me…_my_…my punishment was to watch John die…" Camista's hands balled into fists, and she slammed them against the bed. "Why is everyone here so nice to me? I don't deserve it. John nearly died because of me. Did you see what she did to him? Now he's badly hurt and mother…what she did wasn't right, but her life has also been ruined because of what I've done." The tears started to flow, and Jennifer took her in her arms as Camista sobbed.

As she rubbed circles on her back, Jennifer whispered into her hair. "I don't pretend to understand your culture, Camista, but I'll tell you this. If I'm ever lucky enough to have a child, I'd never let anyone take it from me. As for your mom…I get she's upset, but no-one has the right to hurt another person, let alone do what she did to the colonel. Change is hard. When the first team arrived in Atlantis they made a lot of mistakes, Colonel Sheppard included. Even now we still don't always get it right. We've lost a lot of people, Camista, and we'll probably lose more the longer we stay. No one can predict the future, but your planets history tells us it wasn't always it way it is now. Men and women lived together when the Ancients first visited your planet, so who says it can't be that way again…right?" She continued gently patting Camista's back, relieved the sobbing had stopped. "What I _do _know is Colonel Sheppard probably knew he wasn't making friends by offering you a life here, and he certainly wouldn't want you blaming yourself for what happened."

"What am I going to do?" Camista looked up, her face tear-stained.

Jennifer gave her a small smile. "First you're going to let me fix you up, then I'll take you to see Colonel Sheppard…but only for a minute, he needs his rest and so do you. Whether you want to admit it or not, you've been through quite an ordeal. Your little boy needs his mom fit and well. As to what happens after that, it's up to you. But if it were me…I wouldn't let the terrible things that have happened be for nothing. You were doing something worthwhile, Camista, and if you want to build another sanctuary, I'll come and help you myself. I'm not too shabby with a hammer. In fact I helped my nephew build a tree house the last time I was on leave."

"Do you really think I could?" Camista asked, slightly breathless.

Jennifer released her but continued rubbing her arm. "It took a lot of courage walking into that compound to try and save the colonel," she smiled, "I reckon you could do anything you wanted."

Camista dried her eyes and finally relaxed against the pillows. Relieved, Jennifer started cleaning the dried and crusted blood from the torn skin around her wrist. She knew how painful it must be, but the girl barely flinched. When Camista started to speak again, the tears were gone and there was a determination in her voice.

"You're right. Even if I do have to do all the work myself, I will rebuild the sanctuary. If I don't, then everything that has happened will have been for nothing…and I wouldn't be able to look John in the face again."

"Err…sorry to interrupt, but I need to go to the mess. Not for myself…I could wait…but Ronon's hungry. Do you…_uhm_…want me to get you something?" Both women looked round at the sound of Rodney's hesitant voice.

Jennifer let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Rodney…I should have sent you a message that I wouldn't be able to make it. And yeah, a sandwich and some fruit would be good. But I still owe you breakfast – rain check?"

Rodney flushed, and his eyes went wide. "A _rain check_? Okay…sure…I suppose so…But only if that's what you want."

He pulled at his jacket, then rushed out the room and nearly bumped into a nurse on the way out. Camista and Jennifer shared a smile, then the younger woman looked at her, surprised. "Do you like Doctor McKay?"

"Yes, I do…but you can't tell anyone – that's our secret." Jennifer winked. She paused for a moment while she tied off the first dressing, and reached for Camista's other wrist. "So…while we're sharing secrets…are you in love with Colonel Sheppard?"

Camista looked taken aback as she raised an eyebrow. "What? _No! _At least not in _that _way. I like him…a lot, and I owe him so much for everything he's done for both of us, but he's too old for me, besides…I like men with fair hair."

Now it was Jennifer's turn to be surprised. "So you're starting to like guys, eh? Is there anyone in particular?"

Color flooded the young woman's cheeks. "I am not sure…but I think I may have feelings for my baby's father. He worked at the sanctuary every day, and when ever I saw him…I felt a warm glow inside. Lalleen doesn't know how I feel. I haven't told him either."

"That's _great, _Camista, he's one lucky guy." Jennifer went quiet for a moment before locking eyes with the girl in front of her. "You know…the way you feel now, the relationships you've built with your father, John and the men here. A few months ago when you were living with your people you'd never have contemplated enjoying a man's company - If you can change…so can others."

"Doctor Keller…Jennifer…is John going to be okay?"

Jennifer stopped what she was doing and wondered if she should sugar coat the truth or not. After a moment's hesitation she decided to tell it like it was. "We don't know, Camista. He's very weak and barely made it through the surgery. Only time will tell if he's going to make it or not."

Her heart sank when she heard the all too familiar sound of alarms blaring in the ICU…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Many thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate the support, and it makes all the hours of editing worthwhile.

I'm sorry for leaving you on another cliffy, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And please review, as I love to get your feedback - Joanie.


	20. Chapter 20

**THE TENDER TRAP**

CHAPTER 20

Richard Woolsey fingered the collar of his uniform jacket, resisting the urge to tug. He knew it was supposed to be designed for comfort but he found the material itchy and restrictive. When he'd been approached to accept this commission he'd asked for permission to wear his cashmere wool suits. The request was declined. Then again the posting hadn't _exactly_ been his choice either. The IOA had wanted a _yes_ man in the job. He was the compromise. The only reason he took it was out of respect for Jack O'Neill, and gratitude to Sheppard. Both men were the only reason he was alive. Still, he'd come to Atlantis with the intention of sharpening things up. Too many rules had been fudged if not broken altogether, and without order it was a known fact that chaos would ensue. He hadn't been there a week when his good intentions had been compromised.

Since that conversation with Sheppard in the infirmary, he'd visited the colonel there far too often. Cruelty wasn't the domain of Pegasus, but this galaxy seemed to have more than the usual quota. The sight of his military commander intubated and swathed in bandages like an Egyptian mummy had nearly taken his own breath away. Sheppard was barely recognizable. His face, and skin that wasn't covered in dressings was black, blue, and covered in blisters from being exposed to the sun for too long. According to Carson many of the wounds had been caused by a whip. Others by something hard like a baton. Some with a sharp implement, possibly a knife. He'd also been stoned.

Thankfully, despite how bad the patchwork of livid bruises and heavy dressings looked, Carson assured him that most of the damage would heal relatively quickly. The broken rib would cause him a lot of pain in the weeks ahead, but luckily hadn't caused any internal bleeding. The skin on his hands, especially his left, had been badly damaged but as there was no nerve damage they too would eventually make a full recovery. That couldn't be said for the laceration in his abdomen. From the outside it didn't look too serious, but the wound had been deep and Carson had removed a piece of jagged rock along with large piece of Sheppard's spleen during surgery. The Colonel had been so weakened by blood loss his vitals started to drop before his broken arm could be set. He'd coded shortly after going into the ICU. Sheppard had defied the odds yet again however his condition was still critical, and Richard's heart was heavy as he left the badly wounded man behind.

He'd stopped by to speak to Ronon on the way out, but the Satedan had been sleeping. Or at least he'd thought he was. Richard would be interested to hear his report later, then again, maybe not. Ronon wasn't exactly a big conversationalist. At least the big man was on the mend, and he would most certainly find out more from the people piling into his office.

Richard sat back in his chair, and addressed the man in front of him. "It's good to see you looking better, Major. You did an excellent job. I'm recommending you receive a commendation for saving Colonel Sheppard's life."

Lorne looked pale when he'd walked in, but now color infused his cheeks. "Thank you, Mr Woolsey, but I can't take all the credit. Ronon did most of the hard work. We also owe a debt to Camista. Things didn't turn out the way we'd hoped, but without her input and the assistance of that healer, I'm pretty sure those guards would have killed Ronon."

Richard felt like squirming on his seat, but kept his discomfort hidden. He'd made a poor judgement call in allowing the girl to accompany the group to the planet. Then again without her plan, they might not have located Ronon in time to save him. Regardless, he'd inadvertently risked a civilian's life, something he wouldn't hide in his report.

"Noted, Major, but as you're a member of the SGC they can acknowledge your part in the rescue. I'm aware that Ronon jumped in first, but if you hadn't dived in when you did, both men might have died." Richard's glance moved to the woman sitting next to Lorne. "Major Teldy, how were things when you left the planet?"

"After Pellista was taken away, the other women left without any problems. In fact one or two of them told my team how sorry they were for what had happened. One of them even supplied the key to release Colonel Sheppard's chains." There were dark circles under her eyes but her freshly washed hair, and crisp uniform belied her exhaustion.

Richard nodded, but at the mention of restraints his face hardened. He wasn't comfortable knowing Pellista was still on the planet, and he guessed the IOA wouldn't be too thrilled about it either. However it had been Sheppard's call and given the potential fall out if they had arrested her, it was probably the right one. "Did you see the Priestess before you left?"

Teldy shook her head. "No, Mr Woolsey…but I did hear the sound of a whip striking human flesh as I was leaving. I'm pretty sure from the sound of the screams it was being used on her."

"_Oh_…" There was an uneasy silence as that piece of information sunk in, and Richard grimaced. While he couldn't feel sorry for the woman who'd brutalised his military commander, he wondered if it wouldn't have been better for Pellista if they had brought her into custody.

"Very well, Major Lorne, once Doctor Keller has signed you fit for active duty, I'd like you to return to the planet and speak to Daalen. Let him know what happened, and find out if he's heard anything. I'm only too aware one of the Ancestors was partly responsible for starting this chain of events, so I'd still like to help these people if we can. At best, I don't want there to be any further violence. In the meantime, the pair of you get some rest."

In response they both rose to their feet nodded, and left the room. Richard stared at his laptop. He'd only got as far as writing the title of the report, but he didn't have the stomach to do any more. The IOA could wait. Right now he needed a large brandy to get the bad taste from his mouth.

ooooOoooo

He hurt all over but it wasn't the pain that woke him up. Someone was snoring. It was grating, setting his teeth on edge. The strangled growling noise was similar to a warthog he'd seen in the zoo once. It was a struggle, too painful to turn his head round, but as the fog started to clear and he was able to focus soon the culprit came into view – Carson.

John wondered how he could grab his attention. His throat was sore so shouting was out, then he considered parting with one of his pillows, but his right arm was encased in plaster from shoulder to wrist, bent at the elbow. His left was supported by a pillow, his bicep bound in a heavy dressing. He thought about trying to sit up a little but his hands were so heavily bandaged they wouldn't offer him any support. Besides, he was hurting. While the pain in his back, chest and arms was bearable, his abdomen throbbed viciously even though the fuzzy feeling and dry mouth told him he was on the good stuff. The fact he was even aware of that was a sure sign the meds were starting to wear off. He could just about ignore the itch from cannula irritating his nose, but the pain notching up was something else altogether. John shifted uncomfortably wondering what to do next, when after one long, loud grunt Carson stirred and something that had been lying on his lap, clattered on the floor.

ooooOoooo

Carson didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, but when he woke up there was a crick in his neck, and the chart he'd been writing was lying on the floor. As he bent to retrieve it, he heard a rustle of sheets and when he looked up, John was watching him through glazed eyes.

"Colonel…I'm so sorry, I must have dozed off." Carson scrubbed a hand over his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he forced his stiff, weary body to his feet.

"You look like crap…you should get some rest." John mumbled in a cracked voice, and started to cough. As the motion caused his body to shake, his eyes went wide and he grimaced, cursing under his breath.

Carson took the cup off the cabinet spooned out a couple of ice chips, and put them in his mouth. Sheppard took them gratefully.

"Better?" Carson already knew the answer, but didn't wait for a reply. Despite the coughing jag having eased it was clear from the tight strained lines around his eyes, and the clenched jaw John was in pain. He would top up his meds directly, but first he needed to check his patient's vitals while he was responsive. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"

John winced as he shifted in bed. "Sore…how long have I been out?"

The man was the master of understatement. With the multitude of injuries he'd sustained he must be in bloody agony, but John Sheppard said he was _sore_. Carson huffed. "Aye, I would say so, and in answer to your question you've been out for a couple of days. It was touch and go for a while there, Colonel, but I think you've turned the corner. Here…this should help with the pain and allow you to get some rest." The Scot prepared a syringe, and pushed it into the IV.

"Carson…thanks for saving my arm."

Carson frowned. "What are you talking about, lad? Certainly it was a bad break, but nothing I couldn't fix. With physical therapy you should have full mobility back in three months, give or take. By the way I'm sorry, but I had to remove part of your spleen."

He'd expected more of a reaction but John wasn't fazed. Instead he looked visibly relieved as he sank further against the pillows. When he raised his left arm he grimaced, before letting it fall slowly back against the sheets. "The old woman who cleaned my wounds said…" John frowned and closed his eyes. "Forget it, Carson…I should have known better."

"Don't worry about it. I can only imagine what you've been through, son, so it's no wonder you're a wee bit strung out. Try to get some sleep. If your vitals stay stable for the rest of the day, we'll see about getting you transferred to the main ward tomorrow." Carson wrote up the chart, and patted the only area without some sort of dressing – his right lower leg.

"Thanks, Carson."

The medic smiled. "No problem, Colonel."

"Carson…" John mumbled sleepily, and his name came out garbled.

"What is it, Colonel?"

"No offense…but you need to do something about your snore…" The statement came out as a yawn but didn't finish, as John's face went slack, composed in sleep.

Carson shook his head but couldn't suppress a smile as he pulled the blankets over the sleeping man. As he walked away, he started to whistle. He was bone tired, but feeling a helluva lot better than he'd done in quite a while. As for the snoring, the cheeky bugger may be right but as far as he was concerned it was part of his _charm_. Everyone, including the yet unknown _Mrs_ Beckett would just have to live with it!

ooooOoooo

"Would you watch what you're doing, McKay…I'm supposed to be eating, not wearing it."

John felt like crap. Shit that had been dumped on for a second time then trampled into small, nasty pieces by a herd of buffalos. He'd already been feeling miserable, constantly achy since the meds had been reduced, when just to put a cherry on the freaking cake he'd developed pneumonia.

Carson said he was on the mend – again – but it sure didn't feel like it. His overheated body felt like it could spontaneously combust at any minute, and he was so damn weak he didn't even have the strength to feed himself, even if he could get his mummified hands to grasp the spoon. He hated it. Hated it even more when his unwanted assistant couldn't do his job right. The oatmeal wasn't the most appetising thing on the menu to start with, but he'd rather have it in his stomach, than sticking to his face.

"Sorry, Sheppard...but did you see that?" Rodney apologized. The scientist looked shamefaced as he hastily wiped the creamy goo from his face, while continuing to stare at Jennifer Keller's retreating back as she left the ward.

John was drenched in sweat, his head a throbbing lead weight and he really wasn't in the mood for guessing games. He knew he was being a grouch but reckoned he was entitled. It took all the energy he had to raise an eyebrow and glare at his friend. "Seeing as I can't move my head, Rodney, you'll just have to enlighten me."

When Rodney flushed and looked guilty, John felt like a heel. "Sorry...I'm not feeling great. When I'm like this…well, it makes me a little grumpy."

"A _little_?" Ronon, huffed, his eyes dancing with amusement. John narrowed his eyes and gave him a look. It didn't faze the Satedan in the slightest.

Teyla arrived. She took one look at the film of oatmeal on John's face, smiled at him, then took the bowl off Rodney. "What did you see, Rodney?"

"I…well, I'm probably imagining it, but I thought Jennifer…uhm…sort of _winked _at me." He finished in one long garbled mumble.

John winked at Teyla when Rodney wasn't looking. "Maybe she had something in her eye, Rodney."

"Yeah…" Ronon grunted, frowning slightly.

Rodney looked a little disappointed. "Of course…you're right...that's probably what it was."

Teyla spooned a little of the oatmeal, and with some coaxing John reluctantly took it. "Has Camista told you her plans yet, John?"

Suddenly the oatmeal felt like it was going to choke him and he started to gag. As he coughed, the pain that lay mainly dormant when he kept still, erupted all over his body. He was shaking, clenching his jaw to hold back the cry that threatened to escape as he waited for the agony to ease. When the rest mist eventually cleared Carson was there watching him with concern.

"It's okay…I'm good." He ground out through gritted teeth, but he couldn't stop the tremors racking his body.

Carson gave him a look that brooked no argument then turned to the anxious group who had gone strangely silent. "Visiting time's over. You can see him later." When only Teyla and Ronon moved, he waved his hand. "On your way, Rodney…I'll take care of the colonel."

John was barely aware of the muttered goodbyes as the medic checked the machines. After he made a few notes on his chart, Carson pulled up the chair Rodney vacated and sat by the bed. "I know you must be scunnered, but you are getting better, John. Normally the pneumonia wouldn't have made such an impression, but your resistance is low right now and your body is weak. The blood loss and surgeries have sapped your ability to shrug things off."

John was about to shrug, but thought better of it. He hated talking about himself and wanted to deflect the conversation. In any case, something was gnawing at him. "Teyla said Camista has made plans." He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry again. Carson helped him take a drink. John waited until he was sure he wasn't going to have a repeat performance before he risked speaking again. "I didn't like to admit she hasn't been to see me…What's she up to, Carson?"

Carson quickly hid the sympathetic look, but not before John had seen it. "Aye…well, I expect she still feels bad about what happened to you…anyway, she's rebuilding the sanctuary. Daalen and a small group of Semalaens are helping. We've also got a group of volunteers from Atlantis who are giving up their free time to push it on."

"That's great…" John swallowed and forced a smile on his face. It _was_ great news, but he was kinda hurt Camista hadn't dropped by to tell him herself. Then again, she hadn't been to visit at all. Part of him understood, but she had no reason to feel guilty. He wanted to tell her that to her face but to do that he needed to see her, and in his condition he wasn't going anywhere for a while.

"No doubt she'll come round and tell you herself." Carson patted his shoulder, before taking a syringe from the tray on the cabinet. "Anyway…I'm going to give you something stronger to manage the pain. I know you don't like the way heavy drugs make you feel, but you need rest to let your body heal."

"I know…sleep is the best medicine." John mumbled under his breath, for once relieved as the drugs took him into oblivion.

ooooOoooo

"I appreciate the offer, but I really don't have time for this, Teyla. With the sanctuary so close to completion…"

Camista was getting frustrated trying to reason with her friend, but Teyla simply put some fruit at the top of the straw basket, closed it, and smiled. "Of course you do, Camista, and if you do not mind me saying, you look tired. As the Atlantians say, a picnic is just what the doctor ordered."

She was unconvinced. As for some of the sayings she'd heard here, they didn't make any sense. Neither Doctor Beckett, nor Doctor Keller had said anything about her needing to go on a picnic for the good of her health. However she owed Teyla a great deal. The older woman had given her a home when she'd first arrived, and had been a much needed support when everything was new and it felt like she would never fit in. Besides, she wasn't going to be on Atlantis for much longer. She decided to give in gracefully. "Very well. Are you sure Amelia doesn't mind looking after the baby? In fact why bother her at all? I think the little one would enjoy it."

A flicker of _something_ crossed Teyla's face, but Camista thought she must have imagined it when Teyla smiled as she turned away from fastening the basket. "It is a lovely day, but a little too cold for young John after his virus. Anyway, every mother needs some time to herself."

It was on the tip of her tongue to remind Teyla that the baby had been with her nearly every day she'd gone to work at the sanctuary. In fact he was proving to be popular with the Semalaens who came to work there. Lalleen especially enjoyed spending time with his son. She liked him, more and more each time they met. Yesterday they'd shared a lunch he'd prepared himself. She'd been going to refuse when he'd smiled and told her he'd brought too much, saying it would go to waste if she didn't help him finish. It didn't escape her notice he'd brought two plates, and some of her favorite fruit. As she went to leave she'd found a handful of spring flowers in the child's basket. Every time she smelled the sweet scent of the pale-blue blooms, it made her smile.

They were nearly at the pier Teyla had chosen, when the Athosian stopped and muttered something under her breath. "Oh…I have forgotten Torren's ball. He loves that toy, and if I do not have it we are not going to get any peace to enjoy our lunch." Teyla handed over the basket. "Please, if you could lay out the picnic I will return in a few minutes." She took her son's hand and walked away without giving her a chance to refuse.

They were quite far from the main complex, and as she was unsure of her bearings Camista had no option but to open the entrance to the pier. As soon as the door opened, she stopped dead. It was a long pier that seemed to stretch out to become one with the ocean, but it was already occupied. Ronon's towering figure she recognized immediately. Without seeing his face, she already knew who the man in the wheelchair would be.

The stiff breeze that sent her curls flying, also whipped his dark hair about his head. Neither man spoke. The only sound she could hear was the waves breaking against the pier, and rolling up the side of the building. Her heart was racing, hammering against her chest. As she made to backtrack and leave, Ronon turned and spoiled her plan. She saw him saying something to the wounded man, then walk towards her. Ronon merely nodded as he strolled past and left without a word.

John turned round his wheelchair one handed. When she still didn't move, he gave her a wry smile. "Why don't you come over…I don't bite, Camista."

The guilt she'd suppressed for nearly six weeks crashed down, and she felt the sting of tears threaten to fall. She watched, unable to move as John struggled to his feet, and gingerly came towards her. She didn't resist as he wrapped his good arm around her, and gathered her against his chest. Camista didn't know how long she stood there, crying, but his loose sweat shirt was wet when she raised her face. "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be…none of it was your fault." He gave her a gentle hug. "I'm alive, and you're still a free woman with a great kid. And…I hear you've been rebuilding the sanctuary. Good for you. I just wish I could help."

She eased back from his embrace and dried her eyes. "You have already done so much, John…none of it would have been possible without you."

When a strong gust of wind made him stagger, Camista grabbed his good arm. "I think I'd better get you back to your chair."

John winced, and glanced at the wheelchair with distaste. "Suppose so…but once I'm free of the damn thing - I'll be there with my hammer."

Camista smiled, but waited until he was safely back in the chair before telling him her news. "I'm sorry to have left it so long to come and see you…but you must know I intended to tell you myself."

"Tell me what, Camista?"

She stilled her nerves and counted inwardly to ten. "I'm leaving Atlantis. My father has helped me build a house within the sanctuary." When his face fell, and he began looking anxious she continued before he could object. "I've loved my time here, but Raedelous is my home. And before you say anything, I know the risks. While I don't expect to be welcomed by everyone, Kalenn's assassination attempt has rallied father's men around him. There are those who are still unhappy about the sanctuary, but neither of us believes they would hurt me."

John frowned as he chewed his lip. "What about Pellista?"

"My mother is still alive. She was brutally whipped, then shackled…but the elders spared her life. She has been taken in by Darena, the old woman who took care of you. When she recovers, her penance is to spend the rest of her days in servitude to the sisters. Mother is forbidden to ever leave the compound again." Camista had been expecting the question, but it still made her feel uneasy. There was no question what Pellista did was very wrong, but it pained her knowing it was her actions that had caused her mother to act the way she did.

"So who's in charge now?"

"Falensta is Priestess now. She was a good friend once, and I believe the tribe will do well under her guidance." Camista paused for a moment before continuing. "It was her that sent me the message about my mother. She also assured that provided I don't enter Vergonan territory, no one will seek retribution. I believe…I hope…that in time she will enter into fresh negotiations with Daalen."

"Did I meet her?" John brow creased, trying to remember.

Camista nodded. "Falensta is the one who refused to throw the rock…If my mother had still been in charge she would have suffered for that. I am hopeful she will not stop my sisters from visiting the sanctuary. At the very least, I pray she will not severely punish those who do. Nevertheless as we both know, achieving something worthwhile is never without risk."

John scanned her face, and his lips curved into a smile. "When did you get to be so wise?"

She returned his smile with one of her own. "I think you may be in part to blame for that."

"I hope you know I'll be checking in on you – a _lot_. For starters someone has to teach the little guy how to play ball."

John was still smiling, but Camista could see the anxiety hidden behind the hazel eyes. She bent down and kissed his cheek. "I'm going to miss you too, John."

The sound of approaching footsteps made them turn round.

"Where's the food?" Rodney's eyes darted over the pier, and rested on the basket still unpacked lying on the ground. "What! You're not ready? C'mon…I'm starving here!"

Camista rolled her eyes, and John just laughed. "Will you miss him too?" He whispered.

"Yes…_even_ Rodney."

Within moments Teyla, Torren, and Ronon arrived to join them. Shortly afterwards Carson and Jennifer completed the small party. Camista's gaze drifted over the faces of her friends, then swept up to the towering city behind them. She was going to miss them, and the beautiful city that had become her second home. These wonderful people had become her extended family but a new life and a new challenge awaited her, and Camista was anxious to start.

ooooOoooo

**EPILOGE**

"Are you sure about this, Colonel?" Carson asked, watching him with concern. "It's easy enough for me to take a jumper."

John wasn't sure about it, and it was nothing to do with Carson's dubious piloting skills. Normally they used the space gate, but today John wanted to go via the library. He needed to make peace with the room. On the two previous occasions he'd gone through the void, it hadn't ended well.

The first time he'd been chewed on by a giant snakelike creature, and had been left to die by a reptilian alien. His latest FUBAR mission had left him fighting for his life all because he arrived at the wrong place at the wrong time. But he was a military commander for Pete's sake. How would it look to his men, if he allowed his fear to overrun his common sense? More important, how could he live with himself? He needed to get past this feeling of foreboding every time he entered the damn place.

John tried to convince himself he'd just been unlucky. It was just an old book. A bundle of dusty yellowed papers bound together by an Ancient. A selfish SOB who'd screwed up the lives of a planet, just because he couldn't control himself when he'd fallen for one of the locals. Sure, the woman concerned hadn't been blameless either, but the bastard had left her to face the music on her own. She'd literally been left holding the baby.

What happened couldn't be undone, but despite the loss of life and not forgetting - as if he could - the pain to himself, John knew that if the mission _had _gone as planned the deep rooted problems of the planet would never have come to light. Now, with the information Carson had given them, not forgetting the sanctuary, at least the people on Raedelous stood a chance.

Sweat was already pooling at the small of his back, and his stomach was churning as he forced his hand to keep still. He felt the thrum vibrate through his fingers as he made contact with the book's leather backed cover. What he wanted was to rip off the bracelet, and head for the hills. Instead he took point as they walked through the now invisible wall and out into the leafy Raedelous woodland.

John stopped just shy of the sanctuary. "Thanks, Carson…I appreciate this. I know you went out on a limb to convince Woolsey to allow me to come."

"Aye…well...I wouldn't normally. Anyway, I don't want you out of my sight. That arm is still healing, so I don't want you lifting a finger. Now, do we understand each other?"

"Loud and clear, Carson." John nearly saluted, but thought better of it. Nearly three months on the cast was gone, but Beckett still made him wear the sling. He did, but only when the doc might be watching. Still, he did appreciate the concession. He'd only just returned to light duty which would normally rule out off-world visits, but the doc was doing him a favour by letting him tag along on his surgery. John was desperate to see how the sanctuary had turned out. More than that, he wanted to touch base with Camista and the kid.

"Do not worry, Carson," Teyla assured with a reassuring smile, "we will make sure he does not come to any harm."

Ronon tightened the hand over his blaster, and his face darkened. "Yeah…_no one_ gets the jump on me twice."

Carson winced as he tried to adjust the heavy medical kit on his shoulder, while keeping hold of his box of medical supplies. Wordlessly Ronon took the box off him. "Thanks..." The Scot nodded, then returned to the subject. "I've been here twice already, and haven't had any problems. I wouldn't have suggested the Colonel come along if I thought they'd be trouble."

"How's that going, Carson? Do you get many takers?" John asked.

"Most of the men have brought their boys to be vaccinated, but only a few women have brought their kids along." The Scot covered his frustration well, but John could tell he was disappointed.

John patted him on the shoulder. "Hey, you know what they say - Rome wasn't built in a day."

"That's why I come every couple of weeks." Carson told him. "I'm hoping if I become a familiar figure in the clearing, the women will start to feel more comfortable in my presence. I'd send Jennifer along, but I feel we have a point to make here. If this plan is to succeed they need to stop seeing men as their enemy, besides, I always come with a nurse or a helper." Carson smiled at Teyla. "If possible I'd like to get all the wee lassies vaccinated before the end of the year, but we'll see how it goes."

John nodded. If anyone could manage to break down the walls of prejudice and fear, it was Carson. Doctors always managed to dismantle barriers and open doors where no one else could, but Carson Beckett was a cut above that. The Scot oozed a gentle charm that disarmed the most wary of parents, plus he was probably the nicest guy he knew. Carson was also stubborn as hell. He would make this work, or bust his gut in the attempt.

"What about the sanctuary?"

Carson sighed. "A few women have ventured in, but I think Camista is hoping the regular surgeries will encourage more to take the next step."

The sanctuary had been painted green to merge into the leafy back ground, but when he approached he was nearly pushed to his feet as Camista ran up and gave him a hug.

"Welcome! It is so good to see you, John, please come in to my home - I want you to see everything."

The sanctuary was so much better than its predecessor. So much more than he'd expected. Her small log cottage looked idyllic. There were brightly colored curtains behind the latticed windows, and without even going inside John could see Camista had made it a home. Lalleen was on his knees planting shrubs at the side of the fence but looked round at the sound of Camista's voice. John caught the warm glance that passed between them. It passed in an instant, and Lalleen waved over at him before getting back to work. Camista had gone a pretty shade of pink, and kept stealing glances in the young Semalans direction. John was glad. Lalleen was one of the good guys, and she deserved to be happy.

As he went further inside he could see the planned covered gazebos had become a reality. There were voices coming from a few of them, both male and female. One he recognised. John wondered who Daalen was laughing with. Camista was already here, their relationship on a firm footing. He wondered if it could be Pellista, but quickly dismissed it. Then again, who Daalen met with wasn't any of his business.

John went to help Carson set up, but the medic shooed him away. "Go and see the wee boy. He's growing like a weed."

He didn't need telling twice. When he came into the small cosy room his namesake smiled and held out his arms. John took a quick look behind him and when he was sure Carson wasn't watching, he shucked off his sling and picked the kid up. The ache was worth it.

Just as he was getting reacquainted with the little guy, the door opened and Daalen walked in. The Semalaen grinned. "It's good to see you, Colonel…John. This is a good day for you to visit as there is someone I would like you to meet." He held the door open a little wider and the old woman who'd helped him came in. "Mother…this is my good friend Colonel John Sheppard…"

**The End.**

**Well, that's the end of the story and I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry about the cliffy at the end of the last chapter, but I hope this longer one made up for the wait!**

**Many thanks again to everyone who has followed the story, and to all the wonderful folks who've reviewed. You guys really rock! It's your support and kind words that give me the encouragement I need to keep writing.**

**And a special thanks to my beta and good pal Sterenyk Strey. You are the best pet. Thanks for all your suggestions, and for saving the readers from most of my mistakes. The ones that sneaked through are all mine! **


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